I don't know why, but I've always had a kind of kinship with the roughs, the no-accounts, and the rogues." "As well as the others--I hope I don't intrude!" Ingolby laughed.

"You?
Oh, I wish all the others were like you.

It's the highly respectable members of the community I've always had to watch." The fiddle-song came squeaking out upon the sunny atmosphere.

It arrested the attention of a man on the other side of the street--a stranger in strange Lebanon.

He wore a suit of Western clothes as a military man wears mufti, if not awkwardly, yet with a manner not wholly natural--the coat too tight across the chest, too short in the body.
However, the man was handsome and unusual in his leopard way, with his brown curling hair and well-cared-for moustache.