Over the mantel, set into an ornately carved panel with fluted columns at each end, was a portrait of a man on horseback. For a while they stood there, silent, motionless, staring at the doorway where still a few strings of the bamboo curtain swayed and twisted, agitated by the Wastrel's passage. . Her head swam. On the same peg and evidently belonging to it was a black velvet Zouave jacket. He depended upon her, for his medicine, for his drink, for the little amusement it was now permissible to give him. With me behaving as if everything was infinitely matter-of-fact, what could he do? And just then Heaven sent old Manningtree—I didn’t tell you before of the fortunate intervention of Manningtree, did I? He was looking quite infernally distinguished, with a wide crimson ribbon across him—what IS a wide crimson ribbon? Some sort of knight, I suppose. "Your boast, you see, was a little premature, Mr.
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