Her curious glance traveled slowly from Arlee’s flushed and lovely face, under the rose-crowned hat, down over the filmy white gown and white-gloved hands clasping an ivory card case, to the small, white-shod feet and silken ankles.  Arlee did not resent the deliberate scrutiny; in coming to gaze she had been offering herself to be gazed upon, and she was conscious that the three of them presented a most piquant group in this dim and spacious old room of the East—­the modern American girl, the cosmopolitan young officer in his vivid uniform, and this sequestered woman, of a period of transition where the kohl and henna of the odalisque contrasted with a coiffure and gown from Paris.

Slowly and disconnectedly the uninspiring conversation progressed.  Once, when it appeared halted forever, Arlee cast a helpless look at the Captain and intercepted a sharp glance at his sister.  Indeed, Arlee thought, that sister was not distinguishing herself by her grateful courtesy to this guest who was brightening the tristesse of her secluded day, but perhaps this was due to her Oriental languor or the limitations of their medium of speech.

It was a relief to have the Captain suggest music.  At their polite insistence Arlee went to the piano and did her best with a piece of MacDowell.  Then the sister took her turn, and to her surprise Arlee found herself listening to an exquisite interpretation of some of the most difficult of Brahms.  The beringed and tinted fingers touched the notes with rare delicacy, and brought from the piano a quality so vivid and poignant in appeal that Arlee could dream that here the player’s very life and heart were finding their real expression.

The last note fell softly into silence, and with her hands still on the keys the woman looked up over her shoulder at her brother, looked with an intentness oddly provocative and prolonged.  And for the first time Arlee caught the quality of sudden and unforeseen attraction in her, and realized that this insolence of color, this flaunting hair and painted mouth might have their place in some scheme of allurement outside her own standards....  And then suddenly she felt queerly sorry for her, touched by the quick jarring bitterness of a chord the woman suddenly struck, drowning the laughing words the Captain had murmured to her....  Arlee felt vaguely indignant at him.  No one wanted to have jokes tossed at her when she had just poured her heart out in music.

The Captain was on his feet, making his adieux.  Now that the ladies were acquainted, he would leave them to discuss the modes and other feminine interests.  He wished Miss Beecher a delightful trip upon the Nile and hoped to see her upon her return, and she could be sure that everything would be arranged for her.  When she had had her tea and wished to leave, the motor would return her to the hotel.  He made a rapid speech in Turkish to his sister, bowed formally to Arlee over a last au revoir and was gone.