"No one can get you anything higher than the third class, and I may lose my official head asking for that." "Nothing is too good for old man Gilman," said Peter, "nor for you.
You get the third class for him, and I'll have father make you an ambassador." That night at poker at the club Peter sat next to Prince Abdul, who had come from a reception at the Grand vizier's and still wore his decorations.

Decorations now fascinated Peter, and those on the coat of the young prince he regarded with wide-eyed awe.

He also regarded Abdul with wide-eyed awe, because he was the favorite nephew of the Sultan, and because he enjoyed the reputation of having the worst reputation in Turkey.

Peter wondered why.

He always had found Abdul charming, distinguished, courteous to the verge of humility, most cleverly cynical, most brilliantly amusing.