For awhile he watched the revolving light on Copeley's. His curiosity, his literary instincts, had been submerged by the recurring thought of the fool he had made of himself. Knowledge was sacred in Athens, knowledge and his twin, Art. Except he was the only idiot who would stay. " "Shall I tell you a real story?" "Something you have seen?" "Yes. But you need not fear,’ she added, shaking him off. Dim possibilities that she would not seem to look at even to herself gesticulated in the twilight background of her mind.
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