It seemed to come from under the wall fronting the plain.

Its course, straight rather than sinuous, lay toward the south-west, and was marked by long lines of giant date-palms and pale-stemmed eucalyptus trees, till it lost itself in brown distances.
"Faith, but that looks like lotus-eating, all right," said the major, notching up his cartridge-belt another hole.

"That looks like 'A book of verses underneath the bough,' with Fatima or Lalla Rookh, or the like, eh ?" He drew at a cigarette, and smiled with sweet visionings of Celtic exuberance.

"A golden city! Lord!" "You'll do no dallying 'with Amaryllis in the shade,' in _this_ valley!" the Master flung at him.

"Nor any lotus-eating, either.