Kenkenes rapped on the table. In a little time an Egyptian emerged
from under the counter, on the other side. Understanding at last that
the guest wished to be fed, he staggered sleepily through a door and,
presently reappearing, signed Kenkenes to enter.
The room into which the young sculptor was conducted was too large to
be lighted by the two lamps, hung from hooks, one at each end of the
chamber. Down either side, hidden in the shadows, were long benches,
and from the huddled heap that occupied the full length of each, it was
to be surmised that men were sleeping on them. Above them the slatted
blinds had been withdrawn from the small windows and the morning breeze
was blowing strongly through the chamber. At the upper end was another
table, similar to the one in the outer room, except for a napkin in the
middle with a bottle of water set upon it. An Egyptian woman stood
beside this table and gave the young man a wooden stool.
As Kenkenes walked toward the seat a stronger blast of wind puffed out
the light above his head. The woman climbed up to take the lamp down
and set it on the table while she relighted it. The skirt of her dress
caught on the top of the stool she had mounted and pulled it over on
the wooden floor with a sharp sound.
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