The lounger, propped on elbows, finished his smoke, spat upon the tiles, and remained, a pensive silhouette.
"_Ai-yah!"_ he sighed again; then knocking out the bamboo, drew in his head.

Not until the shutter slammed, did Heywood shake the burning sparks from his wrist.
In the same movement, however, he raised head and shoulders to spy through the chink.

This time the bright-hosed legs were gone.

He saw clear down a brilliant lane of robes and banners, multicolored, and shining with embroidery and tinsel,--a lane between two ranks of crowded men, who, splendid with green and blue and yellow robes of ceremony, faced each other in a strong lamplight, that glistened on their oily cheeks.

The chatter had ceased.