We
lunched there, and part of the truth leaked out after the meeting.
The Bulgars really were coming in against us, and in a day or two we
were to see things.
That decided the matter. We went to the prefect's office for our pass.
Firstly, we were ushered into a room occupied by a man in khaki, whose
accent betrayed that he hailed from the States. He was "something
sanitary," and belonged to the American commission, so we tried again.
This time the porter took us up to a landing, said a few words into a
doorway, and left us standing. As he was wandering in our vicinity, Jo
tried one of her two talismans: it is the word "PREPOSTEROUS"
ejaculated explosively, and is safely calculated to stagger a foreign
soul. The other is a well-known dodge. If a person bothers you, look at
his boots with a pained expression. He will soon take himself off--boots
and all.
The talisman worked, the pass was quickly managed, and we had but to
spend our time among the shops again. We resisted the seductions of an
old man with fifty knives in his belt, who reminded Jo of a horrible
nightmare of her infancy.
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