any--oh, I thought they'd have stuff they call `Turkish Delight'
and things like that."

"`Turkish Delights' is cigarettes, I think."

"Well, I know it isn't, because I read about it in a story in a
magazine. And they were eating it. On the terrace.... What is
that _shish kibub_?"

"_Kebab_.... It's lamb roasted on skewers. I know you'll like it."

"Well, I'm not going to trust any heathens to cook my meat.
I'll take some eggs and some of that--what was it the idiot was
talking about--_berma_?"

"_Bourma_.... That's awful nice. With honey. And do try some
of the stuffed peppers and rice."

"All right," said Theresa, gloomily.

Somehow Mr. Wrenn wasn't vastly transformed even by the
possession of the two thousand dollars her mother had reported.
He was still "funny and sort of scary," not like the
overpowering Southern gentlemen she supposed she remembered.
Also, she was hungry. She listened with stolid glumness to Mr.
Wrenn's observation that that was "an awful big hat the lady
with the funny guy had on."

He was chilled into quietness till Papa Gouroff, the owner of
the restaurant, arrived from above-stairs. Papa Gouroff was