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 actress who got me a job in the chorus of a musical show that was playing in a great big theatre, and that's the house that Jack built—this is Jack!' She pointed to Krauss. "He's what you call a magnate, he is. Wouldn't you adore being a magnate, Paul, with a profile like that?" Gritty let the tip of her finger alight upon the older man's waistcoat.

"And then?"

Gritty drew back with simulated ladylikeness. "My darling," she reproved, "I can't tell you everything; I don't know you well enough."

Paul laughed. "To make a long story short, then?"

"Well, after many vicissitudes, as the story-books say—vicissitude upon vicissitude—I got a really-truly part, and then bigger parts—and one fine day Joe Krauss here, who runs a dozen theatres—by the way, it was me that taught him not to say theayter; I'm bringing him up that genteel!—what was I saying? Oh yes, Joe, he decided that my light didn't ought to be under a bushel any longer, so he blazed it out into the middle of Broadway—bingo!—and there you are!"

Paul was duly impressed. "But Cairo is a long way from Broadway," he finally commented.

She explained that Krauss had been ordered abroad for his health, and she had come along to nurse him.

"A most resplendent nurse!" Paul commented with a significant smile.

"If I knew what you meant," rebuked Gritty, "I'd leave the room!"

There was much to talk about, but both felt constrained in the presence of the silent, ailing Jew, and Paul decided to postpone further questions. The dancing had commenced, and Gritty's head was keeping time to the distant strains.

"Come along," Paul invited. "You'll excuse us if we dance won't you, Mr. Krauss?"