The great gray boles of the palms reminded him of some fabulous Grecian temple. " "So I find, Captain," rejoined Quilt, submissively; "but you're too noble-hearted to take advantage of my situation. So long as they're about, I'll always be rewriting them and wasting my time. Past her shot the little old lady in the bonnet, running incredibly fast, but otherwise still alertly respectable, and she was making a strange threatening sound as she ran, such as one would use in driving ducks out of a garden—“B-rr-r-r-r—!” and pawing with black-gloved hands. It wasn’t so much women as Woman that engaged his mind.
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