Manchurian Books

Chillingworth?" St. George asked eagerly.
"I don't know," said Chillingworth, meditatively turning his glass.
"St. George is rested and fresh, and he feels the story. And
Amory--here, touch glasses with me."
Amory obeyed. His chief's hand was steady, but the two glasses
jingled together until, with a smile, Amory dropped his arm.
"I _am_ about all in, I fancy," he admitted apologetically.
"A week's rest on the water," said Chillingworth, "would set you on
your feet for the convention. All right, St. George," he nodded.
St. George leaped to his feet.
"Hooray!" he shouted like a boy. "Jove, won't it be good to get
back?"
He smiled as he set down his glass, remembering the day at his desk
when he had seen the white-and-brass craft slip to the river's
mouth.
Rollo, discreet and without wonder, footed softly about the table,
keeping the glasses filled and betraying no other sign of life. For
more than four hours he was in attendance, until, last of the
guests, Little Cawthorne and Bennietod departed together, trying to
remember the dates of the English kings.


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