Only this curse of age drying and withering
at the bones.
A long, whining cry came from Cassyrus, who covered his face with
his mantle and fled. The spell being broken, by common consent the
great hall was once more in motion--St. George would never forget
that tide toward all the great portals and the shuddering backward
glances at the white heap upon the beetling throne. They fled away
into the reassuring sunlight, leaving the echoless hall deserted,
save for that breathing one upon the throne.
There was one other. From somewhere beside the dais the woman Elissa
crept and knelt, clasping the knees of the man.
[Illustration]
CHAPTER XXI
OPEN SECRETS
"Will you have tea?" asked Olivia.
St. George brought a deck cushion and tucked it in the willow
steamer chair and said adoringly that he would have tea. Tea. In a
world where the essentials and the inessentials are so deliciously
confused, to think that tea, with some one else, can be a kind of
Heaven.
"Two lumps?" pursued Olivia.
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