Mercedes drew near, and plucked the fruit. "Take this peach, then," she said. The count again refused. "What, again?" she exclaimed, in so plaintive a... accent that it seemed to stifle a sob; "really, you pain me."A long silence followed; the peach, like the grapes, fell to the ground. "Count," added Mercedes with a supplicating glance, "there is a beautiful Arabian custom, which makes eternal friends of those who have together eaten bread and salt under the same roof." I know it, madame,". "I wasn't planning on it," he said. "What sort of trouble was it that you were thinking I'd cause?" Drunken behavior, lecherousness, drugs, Satanism. I won't put up with any of that on my aircraft." Satanism?" Jake asked. "You were afraid I'd have a satanic ritual on your aircraft?" Don't be smart with me, boy," Simmons told him. "You just keep your nose clean up here. There's any trouble from you, I'll land at the nearest airport and have the FBI take you into custody."Jake sighed. "I'll keep. More

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