The dim outline of his erect form was in a way majestic.

He seemed to tower over the man who lounged in the chair before him.
"Finish your whisky and soda to our next meeting, friend of my school days," he begged.

"To-morrow, before you awake, I shall be gone." "So soon ?" "By to-morrow night," Von Ragastein replied, "I must be on the other side of those mountains.

This must be our farewell." Dominey was querulous, almost pathetic.

He had a sudden hatred of solitude.
"I must trek westward myself directly," he protested, "or eastward, or northward--it doesn't so much matter.