Dost thou not know ?' 'I know nothing, but that I have not seen thee in a monkey's age.

Know what ?' 'Strange the knowledge did not reach out to thee, when all my thoughts were theeward.' 'I cannot see the face, but the voice is like a gong.

Has the Sahiba made a young man of thee by her cookery ?' He peered at the cross-legged figure, outlined jet-black against the lemon-coloured drift of light.

So does the stone Bodhisat sit who looks down upon the patent self-registering turnstiles of the Lahore Museum.
The lama held his peace.

Except for the click of the rosary and a faint clop-clop of Mahbub's retreating feet, the soft, smoky silence of evening in India wrapped them close.
'Hear me! I bring news.' 'But let us--' Out shot the long yellow hand compelling silence.