Some monks, their long hair frizzed coquettishly and tied with ribbon, helped in the work.

I did not like the look of them.

My friend meanwhile was talking to some pretty girls.
When we rode off again towards Jerusalem he asked me questions about the Anglican and Roman Churches, and seemed to think it a sad defect in the former that it lacked the faculty of dispensation with regard to marriage.
After a space of silence, as we were riding down the hill by the Ophthalmic Hospital, with the Tower of David and the city walls crowning the steep before us, he inquired: 'Did you observe those girls with whom I was conversing--especially the one with pale-blue ribbons.

It is her I love.' And, when I complimented him on his good taste, he added: 'I think I shall become a Catholic,' and started weeping.
I then learnt from his broken speech that he was himself the hapless lover of his story to the Patriarch.

The girl whom I had seen at Mar Elias was the sister of his brother's wife.