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 might be. One might think of him in that way—upon a camel at Touggourt or out in the Desert, for instance. I am sure he would ride upon one and perhaps have his portrait painted as he sat upon one."

"He would!" Ogle said grimly. "That is, he would if he thought he could use it for an advertisement."

"All the same it would be interesting," said Mme. Momoro. "I have a little weakness for the grotesque."

"Have you?" He turned to her earnestly, and found her eyes benevolent. "I didn't mean the man would be anything so distinguished as grotesque. It seems to me he would be only annoying. I meant that something else struck me as grotesque."

"Somesing else besides Mr. Tinker in Africa? What?"

"Well—well, frankly" He hesitated, a little embarrassed, and then decided to be bold enough to go on with his thought. "Frankly, it is rather curious to me that a lady of your type—though I don't mean you belong to a type, Madame Momoro—it is a little strange to find you apparently without the—the prejudices, perhaps I should say, that an American of your class would feel. I hope you'll forgive me for