McClintock had brought from Penang three mangosteen evergreens; and, wonders of wonders, they had thrived —as trees. Outside in the hall he paused and thoughtfully stroked his smooth blue chin. And God had let him do it! He was—and now he perfectly understood that he was—treading the queerest labyrinth a man had ever entered. She didn’t choose her man. Each wing had a small cupola; and, in the centre of the pile rose a larger dome, surmounted by a gilded ball and vane. It was easy for him to see that she desired to be agreeable to him. Just one thing more.
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