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For almost the first time in his life he grew melancholy; his hands fell on his lap; he sat gazing out of the window-slit upon the view outside the view he had looked at every day of his life, and might look at for endless days more. Not a very cheerful view, just the plain and the sky, but he liked it.
Again they passed a window-slit, and Bunny suddenly awoke to the fact that the flying figure in front was trying to out-distance him. It came to him in a flash of intuition. She was daring him, she was fooling him. Some imp of mischief had entered into her. She was luring him to pursuit; and like the whirling of a torch in a dark place, the knowledge first dazzled, and then drew him.
And sound as sleeps that mansion, ye may mark in every chink A gleam, as in the lava-cracks by the volcano's brink; Through key-hole and through window-slit, a white and sullen glow And all above is rolling smoke, and all is dark below.
So she crept quietly away without disturbing them, and climbed slowly up the steep steps to the place where she remembered the first window-slit in the tower came. She thought she would feel less lonely if she could see the lamps burning in the streets, and would feel that the world was not quite so far away as it had seemed to her during all those long, quiet hours.
He put his handkerchief through the window-slit, so that it fluttered outside, and, fixing it in its place by a large stone drawn from the loose ones around him, awaited succour as best he could. To begin this course of procedure was easy, but to abide in patience till it should produce fruit was an irksome task.
Lord Baxby was weary with his long day's march and other excitements, and soon retired to bed. His lady followed some time after. Her husband slept profoundly, but not so she; she sat brooding by the window-slit, and lifting the curtain looked forth upon the hills without.
If the poorest mother writes a letter to her son in some distant spot in India and puts it into the window-slit of a village post-office, without a word being spoken, how much is done for her before that letter reaches its destination!
Every door and window-slit stood open at their widest; and through them entered in the familiar, unforgettable smell of the Indian Empire under her yearly baptism of fire; a smell of dust, and baked brick work, and stale native tobacco.
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