"I always like to walk down this staircase when I'm not in a hurry," I
had heard Althea saying to the Skeptic behind us, "to get the effect
from the landing. Isn't it wonderful?"
We all paused upon the landing, which was about thirty feet square. The
Skeptic, leaning against the marble balustrade, gazed out over the scene
with an air of prostrating himself before a shrine. Awe and wonder
dominated his aspect. Only we who were familiar with a certain curving
line over his left eyebrow knew that he was longing to break into an
apostrophe on the magnificence before him which would have alienated
Althea and her husband forevermore.
"These columns are of the purest (something) marble," declared the
Promoter, laying his hand upon one of them. He rather mumbled the name,
and I think none of us were able to recognize it.
"Indeed!" said the Skeptic, and laid his hand upon the column. "It
seems stout."
"It's the same that is used in the Royal Palace at Athens," added
the Promoter.
"That must be why it feels so Greece-y to the touch," murmured the
Skeptic; but, luckily, nobody heard him but myself.
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