He glanced at Ruth (who had stood with her back to the wall, pinned there throughout the contest by terror and the knowledge of her own helplessness), then at the bronze menace, and calculated correctly that this particular adventure was finished. His name was Peter. It hung from the centre of a stout pole, each end of which rested upon the calloused shoulder of a coolie; an ordinary Occidental chair with a foot-rest. The trees were graceful and brown, arching and fanning their golden leaves as if to shower with coins the pink-gold sky. Each was draped in transparent silk, dancing, beckoning to me, teasing me.
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