The Arab believes he ought to know all about how you feel physically, and expects you to reciprocate.

When that was over ben Nazir took us to the corner and presented, first me, then Anazeh to the solitary man in the white head-dress, who seemed to think himself too important to trouble about manners.
Anazeh did not quite like my receiving attention first, and he liked still less the off-handed way in which the solitary man received us.

We were told his name was Suliman ben Saoud.

He acknowledged my greeting.

He and old Anazeh glared at each other, barely moving their heads in what might have been an unspoken threat and retort or a nod of natural recognition.
Anazeh turned on his heel and joined the other guests.
In some vague way I knew that Saoud was a name to conjure with, although memory refused to place it.