Manlike, he thought she looked exquisite--and showed that he thought so. The admiring, grinning face of old Safîyeh appeared in the doorway, as Zalithea, almost timidly, came forward into the room. The girl’s wonderful, black-fringed eyes were set upon Barry with an expression of childish eagerness. Something very unusual there was in her appearance, not due to her wholly different style of beauty, but to some irregularity in her attire which for a moment he failed to place. Then, all at once, he saw what it was. Zalithea’s shapely creamy legs were bare! She had forgotten to put stockings on! Watching him anxiously, she spoke. “Zal’ith-eeah!” she said. “You-ah-addorahble!” CHAPTER XXV. SOCIAL AMENITIES On the eve of Danbazzar’s return, Barry ran into his acquaintance, the irrigation specialist, in the lounge of the hotel. “Hullo!” said that chronically bored person, dropping into a neighbouring armchair. “I’ve only just come in from Assouan, but I heard you were back. How’s the oasis lookin’?” “Splendid,” Barry returned hastily, hoping that the other had forgotten about the dates. “Dry Martini?” “Thanks,” was the reply. “Rumour has it that a charmin’ stranger has joined your party.” “Oh!” said Barry. “With which of her many tongues did Rumour whisper this news?” “Tawwab,” drawled the tired voice. “Nasty bit of work. Know him?” Barry nodded. “I have that misfortune.” He experienced a vague uneasiness. To the best of his knowledge, Mr. Tawwab’s hold upon them was no more. But the man’s insatiable appetite for _bakhshish_ on a grand scale might inspire him to some new piece of interference. He wished Danbazzar were back. Zalithea was dining downstairs to-night. It would be the first time she had appeared in public unveiled. Barry had reserved a discreet table, and when he had left Zalithea to dress, she had been wild with excitement. A French chambermaid had been detailed to assist. Inexplicably, the hotel seemed to have become filled up. The lounge was crowded. A number of visitors had arrived during the afternoon. He hoped Mr. Tawwab was not present. “Our guest is the daughter of a friend of Danbazzar’s,” he explained. “Professor Blackwell is treating her for nerve trouble.” “I see,” murmured the irrigator, sipping his drink and lighting a cigarette. “Danbazzar is the sportsman like a Moorish pirate?” “Yes!” said Barry, laughing. “Saw him when you were here before. Extraordinary lookin’ bird. Do you grow ’em like that in America?” “Not in large quantities.” “_Rara avis_, eh? Tawwab was tellin’ me your girl friend only speaks Kabyle. As I don’t know whether Kabyle is a vegetable or an ointment I ain’t any wiser.” “It would be quite a good thing if Tawwab attended to his own business, don’t you think?” “Rather. It’d choke him--which would be toppin’.”