Those days were the most wonderful of Meriem's life.
She had not dreamed even vaguely of the marvels that civilization
held in store for her. The great ocean and the commodious steamship
filled her with awe. The noise, and bustle and confusion of the
English railway station frightened her.
"If there was a good-sized tree at hand," she confided to Korak, "I
know that I should run to the very top of it in terror of my life."
"And make faces and throw twigs at the engine?" he laughed back.
"Poor old Numa," sighed the girl. "What will he do without us?"
"Oh, there are others to tease him, my little Mangani," assured
Korak.
The Greystoke town house quite took Meriem's breath away; but when
strangers were about none might guess that she had not been to the
manner born.
They had been home but a week when Lord Greystoke received a message
from his friend of many years, D'Arnot.
It was in the form of a letter of introduction brought by one General
Armand Jacot. Lord Greystoke recalled the name, as who familiar
with modern French history would not, for Jacot was in reality the
Prince de Cadrenet--that intense republican who refused to use,
even by courtesy, a title that had belonged to his family for four
hundred years.
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