AMENDS
waves clumsy permission to sailor nations who hold the gorgeous East in fee. Four times, between this statue and the end of the breakwater, Owen began; and four times Laura, constrained and wary, slipped away like the poet's filly in the fields.
"How large a ruby could they put inside the bell?" she asked, irrelevantly.
"Who cares?" said Owen. "But I'll show you."
An old Arab perched on the edge, fishing,—a little heap of bait beside him, and his provender of unripe dates forming a vermilion puddle in the sunlight. He lent his knife, courteously, with a wrinkled smile.
Owen caught up Chao Phya, and pried at one of the remaining bells.
"Do be careful!" commanded Laura. "You'll cut him. You wouldn't care, would you? Men don't like cats."
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