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Updated: May 25, 2025
A short fat man passed in pursuit of her an elderly man in a black alpaca jacket that billowed. I saw that she had left a trail of little white things on the asphalt. I watched the efforts of the agonised short fat man to overtake her as she swept wraith-like away to the distant end of the terrace. What was the matter? What had made her so spectacularly angry with him?
She became the living expression of rhythm and grace as she paused for an instant before them, scintillating and quivering like an aspen leaf, or glided and whirled wraith-like, fragile and delicate and ethereal, wondrously lithe and airy like films of gossamer or foam tossed up by the sea.
While Ootah and his companion stood on the peak, the moon passed behind a veil of clouds and Ootah felt two soft wraith-like hands pass over his face cloud-hands which his simple mind believed were sentient things. His heart for the moment seemed to stop. Thus the kind spirits warn men of danger. At that instant a stinging sound smote the air.
The shrieks burst out afresh, and, as I recalled the appalling details of the scene which had occurred in this very room only five weeks ago, I shuddered at his temerity. But he was quite calm. Soon, I saw the wraith-like form of the recent victim dart from the closet.
Capper trickled something out of a spoon between the pale lips, and for a little there was silence. But the blue eyes remained wide, fixed upon those other fiery eyes that held them by some mysterious magic from falling into sightlessness. Three figures had come in through the open door, moving wraith-like, silently. The room seemed full of shadows.
A vision of the Man who called Himself the Son of God arose dim and wraith-like, sorrowful, homeless, poor crucified! If God revealed Himself, perhaps he must follow that Man! Was it worth it? Was it not better to go on as he was, rich, independent, self-governed? If he asked for light, was he ready to follow the light? His hands clenched themselves in the struggle.
Against the evening glow of the reflected sky for a single instant they stood out in the bright yellow of the new birch-bark, the glow of warm colour on the women's dress. Then instantaneously, in the darkness of the opposite bank, they faded wraith-like and tenuous. Like phantoms of the past they glided by, a river's width away; then vanished around the upper bend.
Becky!" in the garden shadows, and a cry of "Toko! Toko!" echoes from another unseen speaker of a mysterious language, while wraith-like forms of his tiny brethren make moving patterns on the white columns, as the hungry little reptiles hunt ceaselessly for the mosquitos which form their staple diet.
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