But this was not to be. We were taken from place
to place about the hotel, to look in on this or that scene of
entertainment, of banqueting, of revelry. Gorgeousness upon gorgeousness
was revealed to us. Althea, now very gay and sparkling in manner, her
carefully dressed hair a little loosened, her mind full of schemes for
our diversion, took the lead, showing off everything with that air of
personal possession I have often observed in the frequenters of
hostelries like the Amazon.
Hepatica, in spite of evident effort to maintain her part, grew a trifle
silent. As I regarded her I was reminded of a white dove in the company
of a pair of peacocks. The Philosopher adjusted his eyeglasses from time
to time as if they did not fit well; he seemed to feel his vision
growing distorted. I became intensely fatigued with it all, and found
myself longing for a quiet corner and a book. As for the Skeptic--but
the Skeptic was incorrigible.
"How much does it cost, do you say," he inquired of the Promoter, "to
buy a postage stamp at the desk here? I want to put one on a letter I
have in my pocket.
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