"Beg pardon, Sir Rowland," said the attendant, "but there's a boy from Mr. " "What is it?" asked Thames. At any rate, here I am, and here I shall be, twenty thousand feet above all your poison-reeking cities, up where God’s wind comes fresh from heaven, very near indeed to the untrodden snows. There were doorways to peer into, dim cluttered holes with shadowy forms moving about, potters and rug-weavers. He took a handful of the gravelly mud, with which the platform was covered, and threw the small pebbles, one by one, towards the gleam.
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