Through yet another doorway she observed an ancient silk brocade loom. “Oh, I can’t thank you. “I would give my life for you. I had dreamt of the olive grove beyond the courtyard I had once been fascinated 198 with as a boy. Each arm of the blouse had the faintest of rings around the elbow, a stain that looked familiar. The trader you spoke about: he disliked your father, didn't he? Well, he probably played your father a horrible practical joke. Perhaps I deceived you about it. I have always managed to survive, haven’t I?” She was eager to stop talking about her parents. I think she might be up to something. Happily they had no one else to wait for, and it heartened her mightily to think that she had ordered the promptest possible service of the dinner. ‘Yes, but I do not know why he should wish to do so, and therefore I cannot permit that he interferes. The theme was a masquerade.
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