The oranges were of the Syrian variety, small but filled with scarlet honey. “Lots of ‘em!” Capes chuckled. Squads reached to the very portal of that centre of disturbance. He pictured himself visiting the girl in this shabby little home of her aunt’s—she had told him that it was shabby—and he recalled that delicious little smile with which she would surely greet him, a smile which seemed to be a matter of the eyes as well as the lips. Here was a poor half-naked creature, with a straw crown on his head, and a wooden sceptre in his hand, seated on the ground with all the dignity of a monarch on his throne.
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