"
As a matter of fact the well-knit, athletic young figures looked
uncommonly well in the garments _a la mode_ in Yaque. One would have
said that if the garments followed Deuteronomy fashions they had at
all events been cut by the scissors of a court tailor to Louis XV.
The result was beautiful and bizarre, but it did not suggest
stageland because the colours were so good.
"I dare say," said St. George, examining the exquisitely fine cloth
whose shades were of curious depth and richness, "that this may be
regular Tyrian purple."
Amory waved his long sleeves.
"Stop," he languidly begged, "you make me feel like a golden text."
St. George went back to the row of open casements and resumed his
walk up and down before the windows that looked away to the huge
threatening bulk of Mount Khalak. Since the prince's announcement
that afternoon St. George had done little besides continuing that
walk. Now it wanted hardly half an hour to the momentous ceremony of
the evening, big with at least one of the dozen portents of which he
accused it.
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