"What's that to you?" retorted Jack, surlily. ” She had no way of retaliating, so she made a decision. Her fingers passed over a cunningly wrought surface of wood, with just the correct amount of protrusion, the precise colours of dyed leather, and cleverly gilded surfaces and neatly painted lettering. Even the chattering monkeys, parrots, and parrakeets departed the fruit groves for the smelly dark of the jungle. The material cares of life hang about your neck like a millstone. This is a plot entirely abominable, and I scorn to be part of it. "Where did I hear that before?" "Perhaps that first day, in the water-clock tower. She had but to choose.
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