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in such a Persian district. We’re more cosmopolitan where I’m living.’
    ‘Where’s that?’
    ‘Near the new university buildings.’
    Deborah wondered if he would ever invite her there. Probably not. He would see her settled in with his American friends and then he would leave her severely alone. He had already made it plain that he didn’t want to get involved with her, not in any way at all. She would be a fool if she didn’t take the hint and leave him alone—and she was not a complete fool, not yet she wasn’t!
    The bazaar was fun. At first Deborah had eyes only for the crowded humanity that rushed to and fro past the tiny shops and stalls, many of them lit by strip-lights fashioned in a complete circle. They sold hand printed materials and shopping bags, silks and satins, delicate miniature paintings on ivory and camel-bones, nuts, fruits and spices, hideous furniture, and more beautiful carpets of every description than Deborah had seen in her life before. Porters, carrying huge loads on their backs, rushed hither and yon, shouting a warning to the innocent shoppers who were likely to be knocked down by them. Here and there, a small boy, scenting a possible sale, would advance and beg her to enter this or that shop, claiming that only there would she find exactly what she wanted at a reasonable price.
    Roger Derwent hurried her past even the best-looking bargains. ‘You can come back later,’ he said again and again. ‘Come on, Deborah! I have a lecture to give before lunch and I’m not going to be late for it. Stop dawdling and come along!’
    It was at that moment that Deborah looked up and saw the covered roof, made entirely of brick, culminating in a series of domes that were quite beautiful. She stood stock still and stared upwards, pleased by the intricate patterns that the bricks made.
    ‘You didn’t tell me about that!’ she complained.
    ‘I hoped you weren’t going to notice,’ he confessed. ‘This is known as the Regent’s Bazaar. It was put up by Karim Khan Zand, who also built the Regent’s Mosque, the Masjid-e Vakil, which is just by the entrance. Maxine will take you there if you want to see it.’
    Maxine again! It was useless to want to be taken everywhere by Roger, but he might have been a little more forthcoming. She suspected that he had a love for Persian architecture that Maxine had not and she would have liked to have benefited from his knowledge, if nothing else.
    She sighed. ‘What is your lecture about?’ she asked.
    ‘English Literature.’
    So he wasn’t going to tell her about that either. She sighed again. ‘I haven’t any degrees to prove it,’ she said, ‘but I am thought to be quite well read by my friends.’
    She had his full attention then. ‘My dear girl, I never doubted it!’ he mocked her. ‘But I’m no Ian to enjoy your adulation. I don’t like being quoted, and I don’t like secondhand opinions of any kind.’
    ‘I suppose you’d prefer it if I didn’t have any opinions at all?’ she retorted, hurt.
    ‘It might be more honest,’ he said drily. He smiled a little at her woebegone face. ‘Cheer up, my dear, there are plenty of others who will be only too willing to be impressed by your erudition, if that’s what you want.’
    ‘You know it isn’t!’ She stiffened her backbone until her muscles ached. ‘You think you know everything, but you don’t! You don’t know anything about me! You may be very clever, but it takes more than cleverness to be a decent human being!’
    His eyebrows rose. ‘You think I’m inhuman?’
    ‘Yes,’ she said definitely. ‘I’m glad you’ve decided I’m beneath your notice. The exalted slopes where you have your being are too cold and lonely for me. I like other people, ordinary people like myself, and I don’t think it’s the least bit clever to look down on them!’
    ‘Ah,’ he congratulated her, ‘a genuine opinion at last! Well done, Deborah Day!’
    She walked on, feeling more