The Greek invited me to tea once. He had three beautiful sisters named Pallas, Aphrodite, and Artemis. They gave me tea in the garden with European cakes that they had learned to make at the American college. Next door a pale-faced man stood on a third-floor balcony addressing the world. I asked Pallas what he was saying: ‘Oh,’ she said, ‘don’t mind him; he’s a millionaire, so the police leave him alone. He’s quite mad. He lived ten years in England. He’s saying now that they’re burning him up with electricity, and he’s telling the birds all his troubles. He says that his secretary accuses him of stealing five piastres from him, and it isn’t true. Now he’s saying that there can’t be a God because God wouldn’t allow the English to steal the fellaheen’s camels for the war and not return them. Now he’s saying that all religions are very much the same, and that Buddha is as good as Mohammed. But really,’ she said, ‘he’s quite mad. He keeps a little dog in his house, actually in his very room, and plays with it and talks to it as though it were a human being.’ (Dogs are unclean in Egypt.) She told me that in another twenty years the women of Egypt would be in control of everything. The feminist movement had just started, and as the women of Egypt were by far the most active and intelligent part of the population, great changes were to be expected. She said that neither she nor her sisters would stand her father’s attempts to keep them in their places. Her brother showed me his library. He was doing the arts-course as a preliminary to law. Besides his legal textbooks he had Voltaire, Rousseau, a number of saucy French novels in paper covers, Shakespeare’s works and Samuel Smiles’ _Self Help_, a book which I had never met before. He asked my advice about his career, and I advised him to go to a European university because an arts degree at Cairo would be of little advantage to him.