Out of the southern gate of the city, which leads into the fertile vine-clad plain, a dusty and perspiring procession—little two-wheeled carts, beautifully carved and decorated, carrying great casks of grape juice, little donkeys with a pigskin filled with wine on either flank and a driver trotting along beside them—pushed and crowded its way into the city. At the same time a steady stream of peasants on foot, or city people in carriages, mingling with the carts and pack-animals, poured out of the gate along the dusty highway, dividing and dwindling, until the stream lost itself among the cactus hedges that mark the winding country roads.
"Oh, Gommie, don't be so depressing. Do say for a change that you hope George will make a good husband. That is much more to the point. How could I be happy if he should turn out to be a tyrant, and beat and ill-use me? You know, they say it doesn't matter who you marry, because you are sure to find out afterwards that you have married somebody else."
"Hmmm. Perhaps I should cultivate him. A few high-level contacts never do any harm. On the other hand, I understand he lives in a very loose way, feasting and merrymaking. Frivolous in the extreme. No wife, you understand, but hordes of lightly clad women about. And in that connection, the Aga Kagans have some very curious notions as to what constitutes proper hospitality to a guest."
The auld gintleman had throost the fat letter hastily into his pocket. As Miss Claire spoke he now fussed over the boonch in his uther hand.
"Now I think we'd better be getting on," he said briskly. "I've enjoyed our chat, but we do have business to attend to."
??Joan not go dead,?? he said. ??No.??
With Captain McCoy and his guards on one side, and Samuel Mason and his family on the other, Setton stood alone between “the devil and the deep blue sea.” He and Mason were figuratively and literally in the same boat, but Mason had at least the consolation of knowing that the members of his family on board were also with him in sympathy and ready to obey his command, even though it led to certain death.
“New verse-forms?” Delane echoed forlornly. He stood up in his heavy way, but did not offer to take the book from me again. I saw in his face the symptoms of approaching departure.
By John Trotwood Moore
Copyright © 2020