Nothing would satisfy them then but that we must photograph every individual monk in the place.
Even the Buddha himself, cross-legged and imperturbable, had to sit for his portrait.

As he was used to sitting--never, indeed, having done anything else--he came out admirably.
Day after day passed; suns rose and suns set; and it was clear that the monks did not mean to let us leave their precincts in a hurry.

Lady Meadowcroft, having recovered by this time from her first fright, began to grow bored.

The Buddhists' ritual ceased to interest her.

To vary the monotony, I hit upon an expedient for killing time till our too pressing hosts saw fit to let us depart.