Love stories; Unmarried mothers -- Fiction; Women household employees -- Fiction
That night after dinner the music was already sounding in the ball-room
of the great hotel adjacent to the palm-gardens when Mrs. Gerald found
Lester smoking on one of the verandas with Jennie by his side. The
latter was in white satin and white slippers, her hair lying a heavy,
enticing mass about her forehead and ears. Lester was brooding over the
history of Egypt, its successive tides or waves of rather weak-bodied
people; the thin, narrow strip of soil along either side of the Nile
that had given these successive waves of population sustenance; the
wonder of heat and tropic life, and this hotel with its modern
conveniences and fashionable crowd set down among ancient, soul-weary,
almost despairing conditions. He and Jennie had looked this morning on
the pyramids. They had taken a trolley to the Sphinx! They had watched
swarms of ragged, half-clad, curiously costumed men and boys moving
through narrow, smelly, albeit brightly colored, lanes and alleys.
“It all seems such a mess to me,” Jennie had said at one place. “They
are so dirty and oily. I like it, but somehow they seem tangled up,
like a lot of worms.”
Lester chuckled, “You’re almost right. But climate does it. Heat. The
tropics. Life is always mushy and sensual under these conditions. They
can’t help it.”
“Oh, I know that. I don’t blame them. They’re just queer.”
To-night he was brooding over this, the moon shining down into the
grounds with an exuberant, sensuous luster.
“Well, at last I’ve found you!” Mrs. Gerald exclaimed. “I couldn’t get
down to dinner, after all. Our party was so late getting back. I’ve
made your husband agree to dance with me, Mrs. Kane,” she went on
smilingly. She, like Lester and Jennie, was under the sensuous
influence of the warmth, the spring, the moonlight. There were rich
odors abroad, floating subtly from groves and gardens; from the remote
distance camel-bells were sounding and exotic cries, _“Ayah!”_ and
_“oosh! oosh!”_ as though a drove of strange animals were being rounded
up and driven through the crowded streets.
“You’re welcome to him,” replied Jennie pleasantly. “He ought to dance.
I sometimes wish I did.”
“You ought to take lessons right away then,” replied Lester genially.
“I’ll do my best to keep you company. I’m not as light on my feet as I
was once, but I guess I can get around.”
“Oh, I don’t want to dance that badly,” smiled Jennie. “But you two go
on, I’m going up-stairs in a little while, anyway.”
“Why don’t you come sit in the ball-room? I can’t do more than a few
rounds. Then we can watch the others,” said Lester rising.
“No. I think I’ll stay here. It’s so pleasant. You go. Take him, Mrs.
Gerald.”
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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