He lowered the shade with a last look into the darkened garden and resolutely took up his papers.
[III]
“Put it under the tree in the corner,” Burton directed, “and then bring me a chair.”
“Mos’ pow’ful warm out hyar, sah,” remonstrated the negro.
“Warm? Nonsense, Robert! Feel that breeze fresh from the river. Isn’t that cool enough?”
“Ah ain’ feelin’ no breeze; an’ anyways it doan come from no river, sah; river’s over that a-ways.”