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 was to catch them off their guard; consequently he had cultivated disarming manners. His life at sea had not blunted the eminent presentability of his starched and combed childhood.

He was conscious of the favourable impression he made during his first weeks in Cairo. When he had come to terms with Patrick Coyle he had ordered a wardrobe and engaged a small room at Shepheard's. Lounging in company with his friend, he noticed that acquaintances of Coyle's lingered to be introduced, and that their manner towards himself was an appreciable shade more deferential than toward the Irishman. This bred in him a slight contempt towards strangers that served to increase his prestige. Pat, swallowing his pride one evening, made an admission which confirmed Paul's observation.

"Say, listen, sonny," said Patrick, when a prominent official had stopped to chat with them in the foyer of the opera house, after a performance of Carmen. "That guy used to cut me till you turned up. Gee, the way you got 'em all guessing is a treat. The more I try to be classy, the more of a low-life bum I look, and I guess I'll never learn any different."

Paul laughed and linked his arm in that of his employer. "Rot," he said consolingly, though he was glowingly aware of the glances cast upon him by beautiful women. "It's all humbug. That ass who stopped to talk just now hasn't a warm drop of blood in his veins however blue it may be. He's a nabob because he has a title and a diplomatic post; but he has the soul of a remittance man. It's no credit to me that I'm able to meet wasters like Lord Henry Shroton and women like his wife on their own terms. There's not a man here whose friendship I should consider half as much a privilege as I consider yours. And to prove it, I'm going to avenge you. So far I've warded off their overtures on