Чужак в чужой стране

           HestoppedMikepresentlyandofferedhishandtoJubal."You’reDr.Harshaw,Iknow.ValentineMichaelthinkshehasintroducedmetoallofyou–andhehas,byhisrules."

           Harshawlookedhimoverasheshookhandswithhim.Chaplookedandsoundedlikeahuntin’,shootin’,sportin’Britisher,fromhistweedy,expensivelycasualclothestoaclippedgreymoustache?buthisskinwasnaturallyswarthyratherthanruddytanandthegenesforthatnosecamefromsomewhereclosetotheLevant.Harshawdidnotlikefakeanythingandwouldchoosetoeatcoldcomponeoverthemostperfectsyntho"sirloin."

           ButMiketreatedhimasafriend,so"friend"hewas,untilprovedotherwise.

           ToMahmoud,Harshawlookedlikeamuseumexhibitofwhathethoughtofasa"Yank"-vulgar,dressedtooinformallyfortheoccasion,loud,probablyignorantandalmostcertainlyprovincial.Aprofessionalman,too,whichmadeitworse,asinDr.Mahmoud’sexperiencemostAmericanprofessionalmenwereunder-educatedandnarrow,meretechnicians.HeheldavastbutcarefullyconcealeddistasteforallthingsAmerican.Theirincrediblepolytheisticbabelofreligions,ofcourse,althoughtheywerehardlytobeblamedforthat?theircooking(cooking!),theirmanners,theirbastardarchitectureandsicklyarts?andtheirblind,pathetic,arrogantbeliefintheirsuperioritylongaftertheirsunhadset.Theirwomen.Theirwomenmostofall,theirimmodest,assertivewomen,withtheirgaunt,starvedbodieswhichneverthelessremindedhimdisturbinglyofhouris.