Earl smiled. It was her stock comment on every man who intrigued her at the moment. The last two, a sexy Syrian in Damascus and a young, married Lebanese in Beirut had been easy pushovers but this one should be the opposite if the stern, unyielding look on his face meant anything. Earl hoped it did. Here in Cairo with the acute shortage of attractive blonds, Greta thwarted would be a novelty. The only times they had seen this new interest was when he passed their table on the sidewalk in front of their hotel. He had looked at them and at no one else. It was too much for Greta, she wanted action.

"Why don't you follow him and see if you can't break the ice," she suggested. Earl did. His opportunity came in front of the opera house. The man stopped to examine posters, their printing in French and Arabic. Earl pointed to them, "I beg your pardon. Do you speak English?" he asked.

"I try to" was the answer with a friendly smile. "You and the lady are Americans?"

"New Yorkers. She's my sister. I'm Earl Ward," he extended his hand. "How about having a drink with us?"

"I should like to but I have an appointment. Would this evening be convenient?"

Earl assured him that it would. The man said his name was Naym, he had no other and he added with a smile that he thought the lady was Earl's sister, they looked enough alike to be twins.

This evening meant after nine when Cairo's stores close and its sidewalk cafes, like fly paper, catch an assortment of human beings of variegated shapes and colors.

Naym in a conservatively tailored brown suit joined Greta and Earl at their table. Greta expecting him to kiss her hand raised the back of it to him. Instead he pressed his forehead against it. "At last we meet," he said, then looking at her hair, "Here in Egypt we say when Arn E, the eye of heaven. has smiled on you. you are most fortunate."

Greta twisted. She found Naym "just too charming for words." She'd never met anyone like him. His classic features reminded her of one of the Pharaohs whose bust she had seen in the museum. He must be a direct descendent. "Don't tell me you're not," she said coyly.

Naym grinned. "Hardly. I'm Nubian, what is known as an unadulterated one, Arab and Bedouin blood, no negro."

Earl saw Greta's mouth sag. He wanted to laugh. He summoned the waiter and ordered Pernods for himself and Greta and a Dikkai-date wine-for Navm. Suddenly a slice of bread sailed past Naym's ear. He turned to see who had thrown it and saw a fleshy Egyptian couple at a nearby table in a heated argument. He listened for a few minutes then said with a shrug. "He's cursing her for having an affair with his best friend. If she were one of my people he'd carry her to the Nile at night and cut off one of her breasts then throw her to elmi, the crocodiles. An errant husband fares a little better. His wife waits until he sleeps then she takes a knife and slices off what caused his desires."

Greta gulped. She smiled sickly and uttered a weak, "How interesting." She asked the waiter to bring her a double Haig and Haig. After Naym bade them 'au revoir' she sank exhausted in her chair. "I've never seen anything like that one", she groaned. "He's a good looker and every part of him exudes sex but he's about as romantic as a bull."

23