"Let us forget it, pet!" Tamara laughed, "and trot on and get some real
exercise."

So off they started.

Just as they were turning out of the hotel gate, late in the same
afternoon, a young man on an Arab horse passed the carriage. He was in
ordinary riding dress, and looked a slim, graceful sight as he trotted
ahead.

He never glanced their way. But while Tamara felt a sudden emotion of
sorts, Mrs. Hardcastle exclaimed:

"Look, look! I am sure that is he--the mad man who wore those pyjamas."




CHAPTER III


The Khedive's ball was a fairly fine sight, Tamara thought, but driving
through the streets took such a ridiculously long time, the crowd was
so great. The palace itself was, and probably is still, like all other
palaces that are decorated in that nondescript style of Third Empire
France--not a thing of beauty. But the levée uniforms of the officers
gave an air of brilliance contrasted with the civilians of the
Government of Egypt. Tamara thought their dress very ugly, it reminded
her of a clergyman's at a children's party, where he has been decorated
with caps and sham orders from the crackers to amuse the little guests.