Trodger was lying in wait at the bottom of the narrow stairs. Even on cool days the gardens were colorful and bright, with orange trees emanating sweetness and bumblebees drunkenly weaving from flower to flower. " With no little effort—for the right words had a way of tumbling back out of reach—he marshalled his phrases, and as he uttered them, closed his eyes to lessen the possibility of a break. Not only that, but he carried himself erect— the slight slouch which had bent his shoulders had altogether disappeared. " "Unpossible, master," rejoined Ben; "the tide's running down like a mill-sluice, and the wind's right in our teeth. The small Diedermayer clan was a captive audience.
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