Dick did not admit, even to himself, that he had any well-defined
motive, other than the fulfilment of a promise, for wishing to stand
well in the girl's esteem.
"I may be a potential baronet," he communed, "but I am not such a fool
as to fall in love with the heiress of a man like Fenshawe. A baronet,
indeed! Hardly a month ago I was tramping the streets of London looking
for work. One does not, under those conditions, include in the list of
prospective occupations marriage with a young lady worth a million or
two."
It was surprising how bitter this very sensible reflection could be. It
disturbed his placid temper. He felt like railing at fate for ill-
usage. Fortunately, Mulai Hamed had no further cause to chide the
Effendi on account of his seeming irreverence, or Dick's copying of
Stump's methods might not have been confined to speech.
But it was a remarkable fact, worthy of high relief in the fresco of
weird and startling events then vaguely grouping themselves, that
Royson first dreamed of love, even as a fantastic idyll where Irene
Fenshawe was concerned, while he was hurrying through the native
quarter of Massowah on a mission destined to change the whole course of
his life.
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