His brains live in a black tent, and he keeps 'em encouraged with French and English books bought in Jerusalem--silk stockings--gramophones--all kinds of things." "What is she--a Turk?
I've heard some of them are educated nowadays." "No.

And she never was a Turk.

She was born in Bulgaria of Greco-Russo-Bulgar parents, educated at Roberts College and Columbia University, New York, married to a drummer in the shredded-codfish business, divorced--on what grounds I don't know--divorced him, though, I believe came out here as war worker-teacher in refugee camps in Egypt--made the acquaintance of Ali Higg when he was prisoner of war down there--he was fighting for the Turks at one time--and helped him to escape.
"I've never set eyes on her, but they say she's a rare good-looker and has more brains in her little finger than most men keep under their hats.

I'm told she has designs on the throne of Mesopotamia." "Mespot?
I thought the League of Nations was going to let the Arabs choose their own king." "Sure.

And as soon as she sees that Ali Higg's pretensions don't amount to a row of shucks I wouldn't give ten piastres for that gentleman's lease of life! Borgia had nothing on her, they tell me." "So we're out to play chess with a white woman.