"Not only that. 'I _may_ put myself at the lady's service--for a
price,' was what I said. I didn't say, 'I will.' I shall not be able to
tell you until to-night." The patronizing tone in which Anthony spoke
this sentence was worth to me everything I had gone through in the last
half hour.

"But--I want to settle things this morning or--not at all," said Monny,
reverting to type: that of the spoiled child.

"I am sorry," replied the man of the green turban. "In that case, it
must be not at all." And he made as if to go.

The Gilded Girl could not bear this. I and the others would see that
she was fallible; that there were things she wanted which she could not
get. "Why can't you tell me now what your price is?" she persisted.

"Because, Mademoiselle, I may not need to tell you ever. It depends
partly on another than myself." He threw a quick glance at me. "I
expect to meet that other at Abdullahi's Cafe in an hour from now at
latest. Everything will depend on the interview. In any case, I will
let you know to-night what I can do."

"I may not be in," said Monny. "But if I'm out, you can leave a note."

"If I must refuse to serve you, yes, I can leave a note. If I am to
accept, I must see you in person. Should you be out, I'll take it for
granted that you have changed your mind and do not want"--he smiled
faintly for the first time--"so expensive a guide."

Monny hesitated. "I am not stingy. I'll stay at home this evening," she