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Updated: May 29, 2025
A well with one tree, a spot of shade in the arid plain, intervened farther on. The mules drank. An Arab rode up, lean, walnut-coloured; slipped off his high-peaked red saddle, hobbled his mule, and lay down under the tree. Hot as it was, we pushed on. This plain is said to remind travellers of the stony part of the Sahara.
She pushed back her grizzled hair from her lined, walnut-coloured face, and we looked hard at each other. There was no fear in her eyes, but a certain curiosity as to what I was going to do. "If I told you they were not looking for me," she said, "I could not, under the circumstances, expect you to believe it." I am too highly strung for this workaday world. I know it to my cost.
He was short, thick, and sturdy, with short legs and a long, powerful arms, terminating in hands of an extraordinary size. He was oldish. His face was plain, slablike, and expressionless; it was full of wrinkles, and walnut-coloured. Both face and head were bald, and his skin was tough and leathery.
He was a short, stout little man, with blue cheeks, sparkling black eyes, and a vivacious walnut-coloured countenance; he wore a short black alpaca coat, and a large white cravat, with an immense oval malachite brooch in the centre of it, which I mention because I found myself staring mechanically at it during the interview.
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