BY THE BACKWATER POOL The sun had set with a primrose glory of reflection upon the river and the ridge.

Over there in the west now there was a pale after-glow of marigold.

It streamed across the dark, still waters of the backwater pool by the river and faintly edged the drowsy petals of white and yellow lilies.

Already distant outline and perspective were hazy, there was purple in the forest, and birds were winging swiftly to the woods.
By the pool with a great mass of dripping lilies at his side to carry back to camp, Philip stared frowningly at the tangled float of foliage at his feet.

Somehow that ugly flash of suspicion had persisted.