John Galsworthy,
From The Four Winds — The Running Amok of Synge Sahib
(1897)
“ Send me that new magazine if you can get it in Sydney, Clemenson. Good-night, Mrs Hay; I know you won't think me rude for making tracks. Look after them, Hay; see you up in court to-morrow afternoon, I suppose? Got to go round the coolie quarters in the morning. Bon soir, la compagnie.' He shook hands with the globe-trotters, swung himself over the verandah rails, and walked uncertainly down the narrow path that threaded the grove of shadowy palms. For a minute nobody spoke; then Clemenson said with a sigh: 'Poor old Synge, how down he is to-night. He is a good chap. ”
