Hartford picked up a pack of field-ration squeeze-tubes and walked down the hallway toward the Syphon.
The high official tucked away the scroll and said blandly:
"And you made them pledge themselves to support Mr.--Mr. Joyce?"
“Phrynichus I believe,” answered Aeschylus, “would rather lose the thousand drachmas than have failed to stir the hearts of the Athenians as he did today. The light of victory was in his eye, and mark you, Zopyrus, Conon has not frightened me either, for I intend to work on my ‘Persæ’ with the hope that my audience too will melt into tears! But I have unpleasant news for you, my friend. I am leaving soon for Sicily to visit Hiero, tyrant of Syracuse. My promise to escort you to the Mysteries will have to hold over till another year, however you will find in the most noble Pasicles a worthy mystagogue, and it is my earnest desire that you become initiated into the Mysteries at once.”
Her ladyship subsiding, his lordship here had a chance of expressing his delight at his ex-secretary's advancement, which he did warmly, but in his own peculiar way. So Joyce had gone into Parliament; right, quite right, but wrong side, hey, hey? Radicals and those sort of fellows, hey? Republic and that sort of thing! Like all young men, make mistakes, hey, but know better soon, and come round. Live to see him in the Carlton yet. Knew where he picked up those atrocious doctrines--didn't mind his calling them atrocious, hey, hey?--from Byrne; strange man, clever man, deuced clever, well read, and all that kind of thing, but desperate free-thinker. Thistlewood, Wolfestone, and that kind of thing. Never live to see him in the Carlton. No, of course not; not the place for him. Recollect the Chronicles? Ah, of course; deuced interestin', all that stuff that--that I wrote then, wasn't it? Had not made much progress since. So taken up with farmin' and that kind of thing; must take him into the park before he left, and show him some alterations just going to be made, which would be an immense improvement, immense imp---- Oh, here was Lady Caroline!
. . . . . . . .
The old man bustled out to get in the valise and Gladstone bag that constituted Oswald??s luggage. When he came into the hall again he found the visitor scrutinizing the tea-basket and the roll of rugs with his one penetrating eye in a manner that made him dread a question. But Oswald never questioned servants; on this occasion only he winked at one.
A moment's hesitant practice, and McCray had the "planet" in the palm of his hand—not a real palm, not a real hand; but it was there for his inspection. He looked at it and within it and saw the interior nests of Hatcher's folk, found the room where he had been brought, traced his course to the surface, saw his own body in its spacesuit, saw beside it the flaccid suit that had held the strange woman's body....
CHAPTER XXX A WEEK LATER
heels, or to cut one's hair in a fringe--then a fashion that still was in favour. Her hats were kept on with elastic, and she seldom looked long at herself in the glass.详情 ➢
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