She's finer as she is at present--mothering the
world.'
Rogers's face, as he brushed his hair carefully before the twisted
mirror, was not visible.
There came a timid knock at the door.
'I'm ready, gentlemen, when you are,' answered the voice of Minks
outside.
They went downstairs together, and walked quickly over to the Pension
for supper. Rogers moved sedately enough so far as the others saw, yet
inwardly he pranced like a fiery colt in harness. There were golden
reins about his neck. Two tiny hands directed him from the Pleiades.
In this leash of sidereal fire he felt as though he flew. Swift
thought, flashing like a fairy whip, cut through the air from an
immense distance, and urged him forwards. Some one expected him and he
was late--years and years late. Goodness, how his companions crawled
and dawdled!
'... she doesn't come over for her meals,' he heard, 'but she'll join
us afterwards at the Den. You'll come too, won't you, Mr. Minks?'
'Thank you, I shall be most happy--if I'm not intruding,' was the
reply as they passed the fountain near the courtyard of the Citadelle.
The musical gurgle of its splashing water sounded to Rogers like a
voice that sang over and over again, 'Come up, come up, come up! You
must come up to me!'
'How brilliant your stars are out here, Mr.
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