Medora Hastings, in
all its excesses of tone and pitch, was tilted in a kind of
universal reproving. Then he was aware that Jarvo, beseeching him
not to leave the motor, had somehow got him away from all the tumult
and the questioning and the crush of the other motors setting
tardily off down the avenue in a kind cf majestic pursuit of the
princess. After that he remembered nothing but the grateful gloom of
the wood and the swift flight of the car down that nebulous way,
thin darkness flowing about him.
He was to go back to join Amory in some kind of tower, he knew; and
he was infinitely resigned, for he remembered that this was in some
way essential to his safety, and that it had to do with the ascent
of Mount Khalak to-morrow night. For the rest St. George was certain
of nothing save that he was floating once more in a sea of light,
with the sweet of the world flowing in his veins; and upon his arm
and against his shoulder he could still feel the thrill of the
pressure of Olivia's head.
The genie had come out of the jar--and never, never would he go
back.
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