When St. George left him it was in the hope that Olivia would
consent to have him sent down the mountain, although St. George
himself was half inclined to agree with Amory's "But, really, I
would far rather talk with one madman with this madman's manners
than to sup with uncouth sanity" and "After all, if he should murder
us, probably no one could do it with greater delicacy." And Olivia
had no intention of sending old Malakh back to Med. "How could one
possibly do that?" she wanted to know, and there was no oracle.
All the while the world of intangibilities was growing, growing as
only that world can grow from the abysmal silence of life that went
before. St. George was saying to himself that at last the _Here_ and
the _Now_ were infinitely desirable; and as for the fear for the
morrow, what was that beside the promise of the days beyond? At noon
they all climbed the Obelisk Tower with its ceiling of carved leaves
above carved leaves, and the real heavens a little farther up. They
leaned on the broad wall, cut by mock bastions and faced the glory
of the sunny, trembling sea, starred with the dipping wings of
gulls.
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