"Don't you see that we can do nothing at present?" he said earnestly.
"I am alive to the difficulties which may beset us in the near future;
but what would you have me do, Miss Fenshawe? If your grandfather were
not of the party, I know exactly what I would propose--at least, I
think I know."
"And that is?"
"That Stump and some of our men should escort you and Mrs. Haxton back
to Pajura, and let our Austrian friend ride his hobby to death. And
believe me, I am not consulting my own wishes in saying that."
"Don't you wish to return?"
"No. I love this arid land. I never see the supercilious curl of a
camel's lip or meet the bland contempt of his eye but I imagine him
saying, 'Ah, Feringhi, were it not for your white skin I might whisper
strange secrets into your ear, but you are an unbelieving dog, so
perforce I remain dumb.' Hence, Miss Fenshawe, inclination pulls one
way and common sense the other. As matters stand, I plead guilty to a
profound gladness that common sense has not swayed us to-day, and may
escape us to-morrow.
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