"Did you see the newspapers yesterday?" he asked suddenly.
"My friend," said Nur-el-Din, shaking her curls at him. "I never
read your English papers. There is nothing but the war in them.
And this war!"
She gave a little shudder and was silent.
At this moment old Martha, who had left them over their coffee
and cigarettes, came into the room.
"There's a gentleman called to see you, sir!" she said to
Desmond.
Desmond started violently. He was scarcely used to his new role
as yet.
"Who is it, Martha?" he said, mastering his agitation.
"Mr. Mortimer!" mumbled the old woman in her tired voice, "at
least that's what he said his name was. The gentleman hadn't got
a card!"
Nur-el-Din sprang up from her chair so vehemently that she upset
her coffee.
"Don't let him come in!" she cried in French.
"Did you say I was in?" Desmond asked the old housekeeper, who
was staring at the dancer.
"Why, yes, sir," the woman answered.
Desmond made a gesture of vexation.
"Where is this Mr. Mortimer?" he asked
"In the library, sir!"
"Tell him I will be with him at once."
Martha hobbled away and Desmond turned to the girl.
"You heard what my housekeeper said? The man is here. I shall
have to see him."
Nur-el-Din, white to the lips, stood by the table, nervously
twisting a little handkerchief.
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