"And you're quite right. They _are_ twins. I may as
well break it to you now, as I had to do to Nevill when he invited me to
come to Algiers and straighten out his housekeeping accounts: they play
Ruth to my Naomi. Whither I go, they go also, even to the door of the
bathroom, where they carry my towels, for I have no other maid than
they."
Stephen could not help glancing at the two giants, expecting to see some
involuntary quiver of eye or nostril answer electrically to this frank
revelation of their office; but their countenances (impossible to think
of as mere faces) remained expressionless as if carved in stone. Lady
MacGregor took nothing from Mohammed and the other Kabyle servant who
waited on Nevill and Stephen. Everything for her was handed to one of
the Highlanders, who gravely passed on the dish to their mistress. If
she refused a _plat_ favoured by them, instead of carrying it away, the
giants in kilts silently but firmly pressed it upon her acceptance,
until in self-defence she seized some of the undesired food, and ate it
under their watchful eyes.
During the meal a sudden thunderstorm boiled up out of the sea: the sky
became a vast brazen bowl, and a strange, coppery twilight bleached the
lilies in the white garden to a supernatural pallor. The room, with its
embroidered Moorish hangings, darkened to a rich gloom; but Mohammed
touched a button on the wall, and all the quaint old Arab lamps that
stood in corners, or hung suspended from the cedar roof, flashed out
cunningly concealed electric lights.
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