The quivering darkness under the banyan blotted everything: death had dispersed the black minnows there, in oozy wriggles of shadow; but next moment the fish-tail stripes chased in a more lively shoal.

The gleaming potter, below his rosy cairn, stared.

The mourners forgot their grief.
Heywood, after his impulse of rescue, stood very quiet.
"You saw," he repeated dully.

"You all saw." The clutching figure, bolt upright in the soaked remnant of prison rags, had in that leap and fall shown himself for Chok Chung, the Christian.

He had sunk in mystery, to become at one forever with the drunken cormorant-fisher.
Obscene delight raged in the crowded boat, with yells and laughter, and flourish of bamboo poles.
"Come away from the window," said Heywood; and then to the white-haired doctor: "Your question's answered, padre.