It was a small kiosk, built upon a projecting rock that looked down upon the Bosphorus and the city, and had evidently, from the extended views it presented, been selected as the spot to build upon.
"The Confessions of Harry Lorrequer, Complete"
Charles James Lever (1806-1872)
Scarcely was the last cheer dying away in the distance, when the door of the kiosk opened, and a negro dressed in white muslin appeared, his arms and ancles bearing those huge rings of massive gold, which only persons of rank distinguish their servants by.
"The Confessions of Harry Lorrequer, Complete"
Charles James Lever (1806-1872)
The little kiosk on the hill, at the top of a beautiful garden, was very tempting, too, and after a few hours' consideration I hired it for the season, with that fine disregard for consequences which one learns in the East.
"Paul Patoff"
F. Marion Crawford