The trees were graceful and brown, arching and fanning their golden leaves as if to shower with coins the pink-gold sky. I tell you what, Mr. " "I didn't want it," replied Jack; "but who are those gentlemen?" "Friends of yours," replied Figg; "come to see you;—Sir James Thornhill, Mr. For a while they stood there, silent, motionless, staring at the doorway where still a few strings of the bamboo curtain swayed and twisted, agitated by the Wastrel's passage. " "I know where she will be found, and how," rejoined Jack with a shudder. I can’t explain—” They regarded one another, each blinded to the other.
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