Desert Air - Robert Hichens - Bog

"[...] "And through the doorway where the Tur-cos-I like the old name-crowded I saw the sand filtering in from the desert, and against the black leaves of a solitary palm-tree, with leaves like giant Fatma hands, I saw the silver disc of the moon. "'I vote we go, ' said Marnier's light tenor voice in my ear. 'The atmosphere's awful in here.' "'Very well, ' I said. "I got up; but just then a girl, dressed in midnight purple embroidered with silver, came in from the doorway, and began to dance alone. She was very young-fourteen, I found out afterwards-and, in contrast to the other women, extremely[...]."