The Washington times., 1922-12-03
CHAPTER II.

~ narrow street, the outside of
Sais's house in the old quar-
ter of the city appeared to have
escaped the attention of the col
lector, and remained untouched
and wholly Eastern, retaining the
beautiful mushrebyech lattice
work of the windows, the hand of
the European furniture designer
and decorator lay heavily upon
the interior.
Uncritical of these things
though he was, Marchurst saw at
once that her taste i'm furniture
and decoration was unusual and
extraordinarily of profusely
planned and ornate comfort. And
Snc had succeeded. Many styles,
periods and countries had con-
tributed to that effect.
There were rugs from Persia;
huge English lounges upholstered
in striped silk, one of those modern
Japanese screens carved in shining
blackwood, with bits of ivory in
laid, and many birds and dragons
in raised relief upon it. Chinese
embroidered silk curtains, a bril-
liantly hued oil painting by a
French impressionist, tiger skins,
water colors, books, flowers, little
Moorish coffee tables, cushions by
the dozen, gold, silver, purple,
green, black. scarlet, iriaescent.
The big room P,owed with
,olor-too much COLI. An Indian
chair, beautifully designed, inlaid
with silver, its seat and back up
red in velvet skin leather,
4 close by an antique English
= 2tool which served as a seat
6 modern Broadwood baby
nd piano.
Here and there <glowcd like a
flower, a beautiful "bit" of china.
Everything was good of its
kind, and costly, but there had
been no discrimination, and he
need not have been very strict
connoisseur who would have said
that the value of almost every
piece was destroyed by that which
came near it.
But Marchurst was neither an
artist nor a critic and he hardly
sensed the clashing of styles, the
main incongruities in that room.
Like most men he was content
taste was not to him a necessary
ingredient of comfort. He liked
Sais's room immensely.
"By Jove, but she knows how to
make herself snug," he said. cts
a bit bright, but a man can rest
in a room ike this.
Crichton Hoodless laughed,
nodding.
eyes. It's mixture-Sais told
me it was-but it's a comfortable
mixture. Personally, like little
color I've got a cousin who
would say that all this set his
teeth on cdgc-but he's one of
these artist chaps and wouldn't
allow a room to contain more than
oIlN Nii"'Is '''N HlN Nult anu WIZ
flower on a long stalk After
all SaiS is q mixture, too. | sup
pose it's her French blood that
calls for all these prosperous look
inE, modern, European things"
wi" not"' said Marchurst.
"It'S s. me room--it's bright-and
quiet--and rneant to be used.
AIR
They rose quickly as a curtain
slid back, an" ( girl appeared in
the narrow arCAcd entrance which
the portiere had screened.
1t was Sais--laughing.
"Welcome to my hous', oh yes,"
she called in English from the
archway. "You, Creeton - an
your fricn'. am very honor
that you have com'-on your
journey to shoot lions. You are
more safe here at my hous' than
at lions dens Of the desert-and
I am more gentle than lions, more
kind than leopards. shall give
you coffee-not wounds. So you
shall not shoot me, eh?"
She posed in the archway, a slim
hand to each pillar, looking at
them, inviting their gaze with the
frankness of an unspoiled, per-
fectly natural child.
They were. not 10th to look.
She was wholly beautiful.
But this was the invincible beauty
of Sais, that she was skilled.
IL she wept, her loveliness did