The impression had been so vivid that she could not rid herself of the fancy that he was within actual reach of her.

It was impossible to imagine him fourteen thousand miles distant.
She did not try now to fight against this haunting, but yielded herself to the power of the dream.

When she heard a footstep in the forest behind her, she started and turned and stared into the dim aisles of the gidia, as though she expected to see his ghost.
'Mithsis--mithsis--me Wombo--plenty my been look out for you.

Plenty mine frightened to go along a head-station.' Lady Bridget laughed hysterically.

What a contrast between the romantic hero of her dreams and the figure of the black-boy before her.