Page:The Plutocrat (1927).pdf/337

 wind out of the Desert, came hurrying from the distance like hungry birds.

Hyacinthe dispersed them. He flourished his light walking-stick threateningly and astonished his companion by the savage harshness of his voice, though Ogle could make nothing of the words he used. "It was just some vile expressions in bad Arabic," the youth explained. "You must learn them, if you are to have any peace in these places where the tourists come. I will teach you at dinner." They had reached the arcades beneath the long veranda of their hotel; and he paused, sighing. "Now I will go to my room and get out the manuscript of my terrible report and play with it some more."

"Play with it?"

"Why not? None of my superiors will pay any attention to it; nobody will ever read it; but one might as well do it properly. It takes the place of solitaire for me, I suppose—like my important governmental position itself."

"You hate it, I'm afraid," Ogle said.

"Hate it?" Hyacinthe shrugged his shoulders, smiling faintly. "It is so nearly nothing. How can one hate nothing?"

In spite of his experienced manner and the veiled