And yet, somehow, there is so little difference. Do you suppose when
people die _they_ don't notice any difference, either?"
"What I want to know," said Amory, filling his pipe, "is how it's
going to look in print. Think of Crass--digging for head-lines."
St. George rose abruptly. Amory was delicious, especially his drawl;
but there were times--
"Print it," he exclaimed, "you might as well try to print the
absolute."
Amory nodded.
"Oh, if you're going to be Neoplatonic," he said, "I'm off to hum an
Orphic hymn. Isn't it about time for the prince? I want to get out
with the camera, while the light is good."
The lateness of the hour of their arrival at the palace the evening
before had prevented the prince from receiving them, but he had sent
a most courteous message announcing that he himself would wait upon
them at a time which he appointed. While they were abiding his
coming, Rollo setting aside the dishes, Amory smoking, strolling up
and down, and examining the faint symbolic devices upon the walls'
tiling, St.
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