from the Bedouins. You won't find any veils of brocade in my part of the desert!"
"There are some Bedouin stories, too—some of the time of the Prophet."
"I'd forgotten that. I'd like to see those—must look it up again."
He addressed himself particularly to Teresa, and now, smoking silently, seemed to expect her to say something more. "Did you enjoy your play the other night? " she asked idly.
"Oh—no. I hate the theatre. I didn't come to America to go to the theatre."
"What did you come for, then?" she enquired.
"I came for some big game shooting. I'm going on to the Rocky Mountains next Wednesday. I've got two months clear to spend in the open."
"But don't you live in the open—down there?" Teresa's ideas of Eastern geography were vague.
"It's rather a different thing! … When I get out of the desert I like to change—though I always want to get back there. I make for the mountains when I do go away."
"And you've wasted ten whole days or more in New York!"
"Yes—rather wasted. … May I come and see you before I go—say to-morrow afternoon?"
