He stood with his hands in his pockets looking at Miss Klegg’s back. 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. "And now," she added, with somewhat more composure, "leave me, dear friends, I entreat, for a few minutes to collect my scattered thoughts—to prepare myself for what I have to go through—to pray for my son. ” She noted that as a good saying, and it germinated and spread tentacles of explanation through her brain. I am tired, and I want to be alone. “Miss Pellissier,” he said, “these gentlemen are your friends, and therefore they are my friends.
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