Listen!" Into the quiet and dimly lit place of flowers the music of the violins floated with a note of wistfulness in the melody they played--a suggestion of regret.

Through a doorway at the end of the conservatory Shere Ali could see the dancers swing by in the lighted ball-room, the women in their bright frocks and glancing jewels, some of whom had flattered him, a few of whom had been his friends, and all of whom had treated him as one of their own folk and their equal.
"I have heard the tune, which they are playing, before," he said slowly.
"I heard it one summer night in Geneva.

Linforth and I had come down from the mountains.

We were dining with a party on the balcony of a restaurant over the lake.

A boat passed hidden by the darkness.