"It sounds as if it couldn't be done," said Amory in intense
enjoyment. "It's bully."
He paced up and down the room, talking it over. He folded his arms,
and looked at the matter from all sides and wondered, as touching a
story being "covered" for Chillingworth, whether he were leaving
anything unthought.
"Chillingworth!" he said to himself in ecstasy. "Wouldn't
Chillingworth dote to idolatry upon this sight?"
Then Amory stood still, facing something that he had not seen
before. He had come, in his walk, upon a little table set near the
room's entrance, and bearing a decanter and some cups.
"Hello," he said, "Rollo, where did this come from?"
Rollo came forward, velvet steps, velvet pressing together of his
hands, face expressionless as velvet too.
"A servant of 'is 'ighness, sir," he said--Rollo did that now and
then to let you know that his was the blood of valets--"left it some
time ago, with the compliments of the prince. It looks like a good,
nitzy Burgundy, sir," added Rollo tolerantly, "though the man did
say it was bottled in something B.
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