explained to Cleopatra, "because it sounded a bit like his own name,
and because he had--er--because he had associations with Egypt. He was
proud of them and is still. But Antoun is a name often heard here. And
every man who isn't a Bey or a Prince, or a Sheikh, is an Effendi. I
quite remember you now," I hurried on, turning to Anthony once more.
"You are Hadji as well as Effendi."

"I have the right to call myself so, if I choose," he admitted. "I am
pleased to meet you again. I was waiting for a friend when you
beckoned. If you did not recognize my face at first, may I ask what it
was you wanted of me?"

There was no limit, then, to his audacity. He had not learned his
lesson yet, after all, it would seem.

Monny could not bear tamely to lose her hat, though she must have felt
her hatpins trembling in the balance. "I told you before," she
repeated, "that it was I who beckoned you." He looked at her, without
speaking; and somehow the green turban and the long straight gown, by
adding to his dignity, added also to his remote air of cold politeness.
How could she go on? Had she the cheek to go on? She had; but the cheek
was flushed with embarrassment.

"I--er--I am anxious for a guide, some one who knows Egypt well, and
several languages," she desperately blurted out, looking like a
half-frightened, half-defiant child. "I thought----"

"There are plenty of dragomans, Madame," Green Turban reminded her. "I
can recommend you several."