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nerves."
He took hold of Nefret's wrist, raising it so we could see where his fingers rested. "Your wrist is too narrow for me to get a good grip, as I would with a man," Ramses said. "The thumb presses here, the index finger here; and..."
A little squeak escaped Nefret's lips, and Ramses immediately released his grip and cradled her hand in bis. "I beg your pardon, Nefret. I was endeavoring to exert the least possible pressure."
"Ha," said Nefret. "Let me try it on you."
Before long she was laughing and-I regret to say- swearing, as she tried, unsuccessfully, to duplicate his hold.
"Your hands, as I suspected, are too small," Ramses said, submitting equably to her pinches and squeezes. "I would be the last to deny that a woman can equal a man in everything except physical size and strength, but you must admit- Damn it!"
She took his hand in hers and raised it to her lips. "There, I have kissed it and made it well."
David burst out laughing. "Bravo, Nefret. What did you do?"
"It is simply a matter of pressure on certain nerves," Nefret said demurely, as Ramses ruefully examined his wrist. Even from where I sat I could see the impressions of Nefret's nails.
"Enough of that," I said severely-reminding myself that I must ask Nefret later to show me how she had located the vulnerable points. It would have taken more than a random jab of the fingernails to wring a cry of pain out of Ramses. "We should return to the dahabeeyah."
"Yes, let's go home, where we can be comfortable together," Nefret said, jumping to her feet. "How rude these people are!
They are all staring. I want to get out of this ridiculous frock and into my trousers."
"It is very becoming to you," David said gallantly.
"It is very uncomfortable," Nefret grumbled, inserting a slim finger into the high net collar.
"You aren't wearing corsets," Ramses remarked, looking her up and down.
"Ramses," I said wearily.
"Yes, Mother. We'll go ahead, shall we, and hire a cab."
They went off arm in arm, Nefret between the two lads. I could not blame people for staring; they made a handsome and unusual trio. The boys were almost of a height; their crops of curly black hair might have belonged to brothers. Both had turned to look down at Nefret, the crown of whose golden-red head barely reached the level of their ears. Shaking my head but smiling, I retrieved her hat from the floor where she had left it and took the arm Emerson offered me.
There was something of a little bustle when we caught the others up. A carriage was waiting; Nefret and David had already taken their seats, but Ramses was deep in conversation with the driver, who had turned out to be an old acquaintance of his. He and his father had old acquaintances, many of them the sort of individuals a respectable person would not care to know, all over Egypt. The driver was exclaiming, in the exaggerated way Arabs have, over Ramses's changed appearance. "Tall and handsome and fearless, like your admired father! Strong of arm when you strike with the clenched hand! Pleasing the women with your-"
At this point Emerson, rather red in the face, cut the compliments short with a curt phrase. Quite a little crowd had assembled; he had to shove a number of other old acquaintances out of the way before he could lead me to the cab. I had just put my foot on the step when Emerson suddenly let go my arm and whirled, clapping his hand to his pocket. "Who did that?" he barked, and repeated the question in Arabic.
David's hand steadied me and drew me into the carriage, depositing me neatly on the seat between him and Nefret. Looking back, I saw that the audience of beggars, vendors, and gaping tourists had hastily retreated. The power of Emerson's voice, as well as his command of invective, had earned him the title of "Father of Curses," and his infuriated demand could have, been heard forty yards away.
There was no response, however, and after a moment Emerson said, "Oh, the devil with it!" and climbed into the cab.