He was the host, and I the guest.

Among genuine Arabs that is the most binding relation there is.
He was no longer in blue serge and patent-leather boots, but magnificent in Arab finery, and he was tricked out in a puzzling snowy-white head-dress that suggested politics without your knowing why.

He had told me, when I met him at the American Colony, that he had made the pilgrimage to Mecca more than once; but that white linen thing had nothing to do with his being a haji, any more than the expensive rings on the fingers of both hands had anything to do with his Arab nationality.
After he had flattered and questioned me sufficiently about the journey to comply with etiquette I asked him whether Ahmed might not be untied.

The thong cutting the man's wrists.

Sheikh hen Nazir gave the necessary order and it was obeyed at once.