Burminster, who had come back from a month in the grass countries, with a face like a deep-sea mariner's, commented on this one evening.
‘How do you always manage to look the complete Cit, Ned?’ he asked. You’re as much a Londoner as a Parisian is a Parisian, if you know what I mean.’
Leithen said he was not ashamed of it, and he embarked on a eulogy of the metropolis. In London you met sooner or later everybody you had ever known; you could lay your hand on any knowledge you wanted; you could pull strings that controlled the innermost Sahara and the topmost Pamirs. Romance lay in wait for you at every street corner. It was the true City of the Caliphs.
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