"But will you promise me not to show that flower to anyone until I return?
I'll be back within half an hour." "Yes, Mr.Somers.

I'll wait half an hour for you in the sale room, and I promise that no one shall see that flower till you return." "Thank you.

You are a good fellow, and I promise you shall lose nothing by your kindness if I can help it." We went together into the sale room, where some thought suddenly struck Mr.Somers.
"By Jove!" he said, "I nearly forgot about that Odontoglossum.

Where's Woodden?
Oh! come here, Woodden, I want to speak to you." The person called Woodden obeyed.

He was a man of about fifty, indefinite in colouring, for his eyes were very light-blue or grey and his hair was sandy, tough-looking and strongly made, with big hands that showed signs of work, for the palms were horny and the nails worn down.
He was clad in a suit of shiny black, such as folk of the labouring class wear at a funeral.