"I think he went to his room."
"I must say, Olivia," said Mrs. Hastings with a damp sigh, "that you
are very selfish where I am concerned--in _this_ matter."
"Ah," said Olivia, "please, Aunt Dora. He is far too feeble to harm
any one. And he's away there on the second floor."
"I'm sure he's a murderer," protested Mrs. Hastings. "He has the
murderer's eye. Mr. Hastings would have said he has. We all sleep on
the ground floor here," she continued plaintively, "because we are
so high up anyway that I think the air must be just as pure as it
would be up stairs. I always leave my window up the width of my
handkerchief-box."
As they went out to the great corridor Olivia spoke softly to St.
George.
"Look up," she said.
He looked, and saw that the vast circular chamber was of
incalculable height, extending up to the very dome of the palace,
and shaping itself to the lines of the topmost of the three huge
cones. It was a great well of light, playing over strange frescoes
of gods and daemons, of constellations and of beasts, and exquisite
with all the secret colours of some other way of vision.
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