But when he started to smoke in the twilight, all you could see was the glowing cigarette, shaken by an arm as unsubstantial as the smoke that came from it.
It was not tobacco that he was smoking.

The odour of a drug sickened me.
He held out his hand feebly toward the closed window, modest with its half-lifted curtains.
"Look--Benares and Allahabad.

A sumptuous ceremony--tiaras--insignia, and women's ornaments.

In the foreground, the high priest, with his elaborate head-dress in tiers--a vague pagoda, architecture, epoch, race.

How different we are from those creatures.