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Richmond, Grace S. (Grace Smith), 1866-1959

"A Court of Inquiry"

May I slip it into the post-box myself, or do I have
to call a flunkey, present him with a dollar, and respectfully request
him to insert it in the slit for me?"
The Promoter smiled. "Oh, people make a joke of the Amazon," said he.
"But I notice they're the same ones who breathe deep when they go by
it, hoping to inhale the atmosphere free of charge."
The Skeptic inflated his lungs. "I'm going to do it here, inside," said
he, "where it's more highly charged."
At length they took us to their own rooms. I have forgotten how many
floors up they were, but it didn't matter, in a luxurious elevator,
padded and mirrored. In one of the mirrors I caught the Philosopher's
eye regarding me so steadily that I felt a sudden sense of relief at the
realization that some time we should be out and away together in the
fresh air again. It seemed to me a long while since I had been able to
see things from the Philosopher's point of view.
We looked at our hosts' private apartments with interest. As the Skeptic
passed me on his way to inspect a system of electrical devices on the
wall, to which the Promoter was calling his attention, he was softly
humming an air.


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