sometimes far away from anything in the very midst of the waterless, trackless desert, I see ‘ruins’ marked upon it—or ‘remains of a temple,’ perhaps. For example, the temple of Jupiter Ammon, which was one of the most considerable shrines in the world, was hundreds of miles away back of anywhere. Those are the ruins, solitary, unseen, unchanging through the centuries, which appeal to one’s imagination. But when I present a check at the door, and go in as if it were Barnum’s show, all the subtle feeling of romance goes right out of it.”
“Absolutely!” said Cecil Brown, looking over the desert with his dark, intolerant eyes. “If one could come wandering here alone—stumble upon it by chance, as it were—and find one’s self in absolute solitude in the dim light of the temple, with these grotesque figures all round, it would be perfectly overwhelming. A man would be prostrated with wonder and awe. But when Belmont is puffing his bulldog pipe, and Stuart is wheezing, and Miss Sadie Adams is laughing—”
“And that jay of a dragoman speaking his
