With my egotism, my charlatanry, my tongue, and my habit of having my own way, I am fit for no calling but that of saviour of mankind--just of the sort they like." After an impressive pause he turned slowly and left the room.
"I wonder," he said, as he crossed the landing, "whether, by judiciously losing my way, I can catch a glimpse of that girl who is like a golden idol ?" Downstairs, on his way to the door, he saw Agatha coming towards him, occupied with a book which she was tossing up to the ceiling and catching.

Her melancholy expression, habitual in her lonely moments, showed that she was not amusing herself, but giving vent to her restlessness.

As her gaze travelled upward, following the flight of the volume, it was arrested by Smilash.

The book fell to the floor.

He picked it up and handed it to her, saying: "And, in good time, here is the golden idol!" "What ?" said Agatha, confused.
"I call you the golden idol," he said.