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Updated: June 30, 2025
In the present stage of my book a sea journey might be disastrous." "Certainly you should keep quiet, my love. But then " "You must go for me to Algiers. There you must get me what I want. I fear you will have to poke about in the native quarters a good deal for it, so you had better buy two revolvers, one for yourself and one for Darrell." Mr. Greyne gasped. The calmness of his wife amazed him.
"God bless my Eustace!" she murmured, deeply touched by this evidence of his devotion to her interests. "Madame says " asked the proprietor. "Where does Mr. Greyne go?" inquired the novelist. "To the Kasbah, madame." "I knew it!" cried Mrs. Greyne, with returning animation. "I knew it would be so!"
Mrs. Greyne smiled. The ignorance of the humbly born entertained her. It was so simple, so transparent. "You fail to understand me," she answered. "But never mind; others have done the same." She thought of her reviewers. Mrs. Forbes smiled. She also could be entertained. "Madam?" she inquired once more after a pause. "I shall leave for Africa to-morrow morning," said Mrs. Greyne.
That very evening, after a cup of tea, he presented himself at the office of Rook near the Place du Gouvernement. As he came in he felt a little nervous. There were no tourists in the office, and a courteous clerk with a bright and searching eye at once took him in hand. "What can we do for you, sir?" "I am a stranger here," began Mr. Greyne. "Quite so, sir, quite so."
Greyne's Western ideas, and evidently thought that Mademoiselle Verbena ought to be clapped forthwith into a long veil, and put away in a harem behind an iron grille. When Mr. Greyne explained the English point of view Abdallah Jack took refuge in a sulky silence; but during the week immediately preceding the arrival of Mrs. Greyne his temper had become actively bad, and Mr.
Greyne's large but well-proportioned feet, and, bathing them with her tears, cried in a heartrending manner: "Madame will let me go! madame will permit me to fly to poor mamma to close her dying eyes to kiss once again " Mr. Greyne was visibly affected, and even Mrs.
Greyne seemed somewhat put about, for she moved her feet rather hastily out of reach of the dependant's emotion, and made her scramble up. "Where is your poor mother?" "In Paris, madame. In the Rue St. Honoré, where I was born. Oh, if she should die there! If she should " Mrs. Greyne raised her hand, commanding silence. "You wish to go there?" "If madame permits." "When?" "To-morrow, madame."
She leaned forward till her eyes were close to Mr. Greyne's then gave a little cry. "Mon Dieu! It is true! You are so altered that I could not recognise. And then what are you doing here, on the wide sea, far from madame?" "I was just about to ask you the very same question!" cried Mr. Greyne. "Alas, monsieur!" said Mademoiselle Verbena in her silvery voice, "I go to see my poor mother."
"Monsieur?" murmured the lady, with an accent of surprise. "Mademoiselle Verbena! Surely it is it must be!" He had staggered sideways, nearing her. "Mademoiselle Verbena, do you not know me? It is I, Eustace Greyne, the father of your pupils, the husband of Mrs. Eustace Greyne?" An expression of stark amazement came into the lady's face at these words.
"Ha!" said Mr. Greyne, still in the major's, voice. "There you are!" "Behold me, monsieur." "That's good." "Wicked, monsieur." "Well, let's be off to the mosque." One of the chasseurs a child of eight who was thankful that he knew no better burst into a piping laugh. The waiters turned hastily away, and the German-Swiss porters retreated to the bureau with some activity.
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