, "where it's more highly charged."

At length they took us to their own rooms. I have forgotten how many
floors up they were, but it didn't matter, in a luxurious elevator,
padded and mirrored. In one of the mirrors I caught the Philosopher's
eye regarding me so steadily that I felt a sudden sense of relief at the
realization that some time we should be out and away together in the
fresh air again. It seemed to me a long while since I had been able to
see things from the Philosopher's point of view.

We looked at our hosts' private apartments with interest. As the Skeptic
passed me on his way to inspect a system of electrical devices on the
wall, to which the Promoter was calling his attention, he was softly
humming an air. It was, "_Be it ever so humble_," again.

The rooms were very elaborately furnished; the hangings were heavy and
sumptuous. A massive oak mantelpiece harboured a fire of gas-logs.
There were a few--not many--apparently personal belongings about the
rooms; _bric-a-brac_ and photographs--the latter mostly of actors and
opera singers. In Althea's bedroom we came upon a dressing-table which
reminded me of my own, upon the occasion of Althea's visit to me, a few
years before. Althea calmly stirred over everything upon it in the
effort to find a small jewel-case whose contents she wished to show me.
She found it in the end, although for a time the task seemed hopeless.

We sat down in the outer room and listened again to the Promoter's tales
of the great strokes of business he had brought off--"deals," he called
them. The stories contained much food for thought in the shape of
revelations of character in this or that man of prominence. What we
should have talked about if he had not thus held the floor I could not
guess. I had noted that there were upon a ponderous table six popular
novels, as many magazines, and piles of the great dailies. Nowhere could
I descry even a small collection of books of the sort which may furnish
material for conversation. I tried to imagine the Philosopher drawing a
certain beloved book of essays from his pocket, settling himself
comfortably with his back to the drop-light, and beginning to read aloud
to us, as he is accustomed to do in the Skeptic's little rooms. Here was
not even a drop-light for him to do it by, only electric sconces set
high upon the walls, and a fanciful centre electrolier. He must,
perforce--for he needs a strong light for reading--have stood close
un