The King of Egypt is young, flabby, willful. At night, when he cannot sleep, he loves to set off the air-raid alarm, watch his courtiers scurry to the shelter in their night clothes. He eats pounds of chocolates daily. He drives big, sleek, red and green cars—15 Packards and ten Rolls-Royces—and steers them, according to his chauffeurs, better than anybody in Egypt. He is even surer of himself when running his country's affairs.
This he has done since he was 18. By the time ailing Fuad I died in 1936, the Wafd and other constitutional nationalists had finally wrung a...
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