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Updated: June 11, 2025
He sat calmly smoking a cigarette, his eyes upturned in placid and Oriental contemplation of the heavens. "Drive on!" said Tish desperately. "If he sees us we are lost!" "Drive where?" demanded Charlie. Tufik's gaze had dropped gradually another moment and his brown eyes would rest on us. But just then a diversion occurred. A window overhead opened with a slam and a stream of hot water descended.
The mustached person said it was quite true. Tufik's father had died of the plague; the letter had come early that morning. Beirut was full of the plague. He waved the letter at me; but I ordered him to burn it immediately on account of germs. I brought him a shovel to burn it on; and when that was over Tufik had worked out his own salvation.
He himself wore a long black robe and a beard, and looked, as Tish observed, for all the world as if he had stepped from an Egyptian painting. Before him stood Tufik's sister, the maid of honor with her baby, the black-mustached friend who had brought Tufik to us after his tragic attempt at suicide, and Tufik himself. Everybody held lighted candles, and the heat was frightful.
The clerks in the store were all interested, and two or three cash-boys followed us round and stood, open-mouthed, staring at us. Neither Aggie nor I knew anything about masculine attire, and Tufik's idea was a suit, with nothing underneath, a shirt-front and collar of celluloid, and a green necktie already tied and hooking on to his collar-button.
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