The Falcon at the Portal - Elizabeth Peters [71]
“No!”
“How did you know what I was going to say?”
“The answer is no, whatever you were going to say. From what I’ve heard, she is always fancying herself in love with someone, and my chief attraction is the fact that I’m new on the scene. She’s already run through most of the officers and all the Egyptologists of a suitable age. She’ll find a new hero next year, if not next month.”
Nefret folded the tissue around Horus, defender of his father, and replaced him in the drawer. “Have you got a gift for her?”
“Do I have to? Confound it, I suppose I do. I’ve no idea what.”
“It is a bit tricky,” Nefret mused. “You want to be polite but not encouraging. Leave it to me, I’ll find something appropriate. I’ll get something for Jack too—from the family. That will make it more impersonal.”
“See here, Nefret—”
“Don’t you trust me?”
“No.”
“You can this time. I promise.”
SIX
Experience has shown that the native official has not reached the stage of intellectual development which would enable him to make the proper decisions or the degree of moral courage to face the consequences of those decisions.
FROM LETTER COLLECTION B
It is good of you to write so often, Lia dear, for I suspect there are other things you would rather be doing. I love to read your letters; your happiness shines in every word and every phrase and every repetition of David’s name. (You do mention him rather frequently, you know!)
But your happiness misleads you, darling, when you claim to detect—how did you put it?—the blossoming of new interests and affections in me. Lovers always want everyone else to be in love! Sometimes I wish I could feel that way about someone—head over heels, insanely, madly, passionately! There have been times in the past when I thought I was beginning to succumb—you remember Sir Edward and Alain K., and one or two others—but it died in the bud, to continue your horticultural metaphor. You say it is unpredictable and uncontrollable, so I suppose there’s nothing I can do to avoid or encourage it. I only hope to goodness I don’t fall uncontrollably in love with someone like M. Maspero or Mahmud the cook. He has two wives already. (Mahmud, not M. Maspero.)
As for my current admirers, as you call them, let me set the record straight. Jack Reynolds has indicated, not too subtly—subtlety is not one of Jack’s characteristics—that he would propose if I gave him any encouragement. He reminds me of a very large clumsy dog who wants to make friends with a cat, but who has no idea what the cat wants. Will it scratch or purr when he pats it with a large clumsy paw? At least I know Jack is no fortune hunter. He and his sister are quite well-to-do. Their grandfather manufactured some esoteric but essential component of what Americans term “overalls.” I think I’ve made a few dents in his assumption of male superiority, at any rate. He told me the other day I was a swell little kid (!).
He and Geoff Godwin are unlikely friends, as different in character as they are in appearance. No, Geoff is not at all effeminate! You knew him last year, though not well, I believe. Surely you were not misled by his delicate features and slight build and the fact that he’s fond of animals and flowers? He has developed a rather nasty cough lately, but he insists there is nothing seriously wrong and works all the harder after I’ve expressed my concern. The other day a wall collapsed on the dig and he was the first one on the spot, throwing stones aside and digging with his hands to free one of the men who was temporarily buried under the debris.
Let me hasten to add that the victim wasn’t hurt except for bumps and bruises. That sort of thing happens all the time, you know. I only mentioned it to prove you were mistaken about Geoff. I am not at all in love, but I am fond of him and I feel rather sorry for him. Not that he complains. It was Jack who told me that Geoff’s family has been exceedingly