There was something odd about the guest attraction, Mr. Fayliss, and something odder still about his songs.
usually more entertaining than most double features. Kutrov adheres to the "onward and upward" school of linear progress, while Alva is more or less of a Spenglerian. More when he goes along by himself; less when you try to pin him down to it. And since the subject of tonight's revelations would be the pre-Mohammed Arabian Culture, I'd find Alva inclined toward my side of the debate, which is strictly morphological and without any pious theories of "progress".
I'd completely forgotten that Jocelyn had mentioned something about having a special attraction: a "Mr. Fayliss", who, she insisted, was a troubadour. I didn't comment, not wanting to spend a day with Jocelyn on the phone, exploring the Provence.
The night wasn't too warm for August, and there were occasional gusts of air seeping through the layers of tobacco smoke that hovered over the assemblage. As
A jaded city-dweller attends a party where he meets a scholar of ancient cultures who sings for the guests.
Until the ending, everything about the story is implied or hinted at. If that kind of plotting and sometimes florid description don't drive you crazy, you may enjoy the story.