"It would be most
improper."
"Yes, I'm afraid so, and I won't, of course, unless I get to know him in
some way," went on Victoria. "Not that there's any chance of such a
thing."
"I should hope not," exclaimed Stephen, who was privately of opinion
that there was only too good a chance if the girl showed the Arab even
the faintest sign of willingness to know and be known. "I've no right to
ask it, of course, except that I'm much older than you and have seen
more of the world--but do promise not to look at that nigger. I don't
like his face."
"He isn't a nigger," objected Victoria. "But if he were, it wouldn't
matter--nor whether one liked his face or not. He might be able to help
me."
"To help you--in Algiers?"
"Yes, in the same way that you might be able to help me--or more,
because he's an Arab, and must know Arabs."
Stephen forgot to press his request for her promise. "How can I help
you?" he wanted to know.
"I'm not sure. Only, you're going to Algiers. I always ask everybody to
help, if there's the slightest chance they can."
Stephen felt disappointed and chilled. But she went on. "I should hate
you to think I _gush_ to strangers, and tell them all my affairs, just
because I'm silly enough to love talking. I must talk to strangers. I
_must_ get help where I can. And you were kind the other night.
Everybody is kind. Do you know many people in Algeria, or Tunisia?"
"Only one man.
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