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Show thought. "I do hope he'll kill some thing." And then she really slept. In the afternoon at five o'clock Sir Claude rode up to the inn door in wild spirits. Behind him, slung across a mule, was a dead Barbary sheep. "Grand sport!'' he exclaimed, looking up at his wife, who was on the veranda sitting on a straw chair. "I waited for hours to get a shot, andI say, Kit, you haven't been borin' yourself to death?" "No, Crumpet." "Jolly little place, isn't it? I shouldn't mind spendin' a week here." "Very well," she answered. "You don't mind?" he exclaimed. "I'll do just as you like." "You are a brick, Kitty! You see, there's gazelle in the plain, too, and-" "I know, I know." JO He pounded up the stairs to kiss her. "Poor old Crumpet!" she thought. And she felt as if she were being kissed by a small school-boy. That evening at dinner they were alone. "The Spahi chap's gone?" asked Sir Claude, with an indifferent and sleepy glance round. "I don't think so. I saw him about to-day. Perhaps he's got friends in the village and is eating a cous-cous with them." "A what?" " A cous-cous - a stew- rice, or something, and mutton and spices." ."Jove, Kitty, you are up in all this 0:/. Arab rot! How the deuce do you j·Y/ pick up ·such a lot of information·~. about it?" U "There is a book called Murray," . she answered, dryly. "Do to bed at eight to-night?" |