"I have heard enough to
convince me that it is quite as he says. He holds events in the
hollow of his hand."
"Amory proposed," said St. George, "that we sit up here and throw
pebbles at him for a time. And Amory is very practical."
Olivia laughed--her laugh was delicious and alluring, and St. George
came dangerously near losing his head every time that he heard it.
"Ah," she cried, "if only it weren't for the prince and if we had
news of father, what a heavenly, heavenly place this would be, would
it not?"
"It would, it would indeed," assented St. George, and in his heart
he said, "and so it is."
"It's like being somewhere else," she said, looking into the abyss
of far waters, "and when you look down there--and when you look up,
you nearly _know_. I don't know what, but you nearly know. Perhaps
you know that 'here' is the same as 'there,' as all these people
say. But whatever it is, I think we might have come almost as near
knowing it in New York, if we had only known how to try."
"Perhaps it isn't so much knowing," he said, "as it is being where
you can't help facing mystery and taking the time to be amazed.
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