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Updated: June 11, 2025


"As for me, I don't care a hang for anything in the universe save Sypher's Cure. That's enough for one man to deal with. But I like having such a glorious creature as Mrs. Middlemist in my car. She attracts attention; and I can't say but what I'm not proud at being seen with her, both as a man and a manufacturer. But that's all. Now, tell me, what's in your mind?"

But I couldn't help taking an interest in the two of you, both for your own sake and that of Zora Middlemist." "I suppose you would do anything for her." "Yes." "So would I," said Septimus, in a low voice. "There are some women one lives for and others one dies for." "She is one of the women for whom one would live." Septimus shook his head. "No, she's the other kind. It's much higher.

But there comes a time when the apostle finds himself preaching to the empty winds, and the explorer discovers his El Dorado to be a barren island, and he either goes mad or breaks his heart, and which of the two I'm going to do I don't know. Perhaps both." "Zora Middlemist will be back soon," said Septimus.

You couldn't expect a woman like Zora Middlemist to fail in her duty, could you?" Sypher rubbed his eyes, as if he saw things mistily. But they were quite clear. It was really Septimus Dix who sat opposite, concentrating his discursive mind on Sypher's Cure and implicitly denying Zora's faith.

Zora Middlemist is driven round the earth like Io by the gadfly of her temperament. She's seeking the Beauty or Meaning or Fulfilment, or whatever she chooses to call it, of Life. What she's really looking for is Love." "I don't believe it," said Sypher. Rattenden shrugged his shoulders. "It's true all the same.

Middlemist told me you were generally in to lunch at half-past four in the morning. Hello, an invention?" "Yes," said Septimus. Sypher pored over the diagram. "What on earth is it all about?" "It's to prevent people getting killed in railway collisions," replied Septimus. "You see, the idea is that every compartment should consist of an outer shell and an inner case in which passengers sit.

He searched and brought out a couple of little red celluloid boxes, which he handed to Septimus. "There are two sample boxes of the cure one for Mrs. Middlemist and one for yourself, Mr. Dix. You both have a touch of the sun. Put it on to-night. Let it stay there for five minutes; then rub off with a smooth, dry towel. In the morning you'll see the miracle." He looked at Septimus earnestly.

"Good-by." She rang off, and went up-stairs again, removed the traces of tears from her face and changed her dress. For a few moments she regarded her outward semblance somewhat anxiously in the glass, unconscious of a new coquetry. Then she sat down before the sitting-room fire and looked at the inner Zora Middlemist.

You had gone, but they told me your name. Let me see. I know everybody and never forget anything. My mind is pigeon-holed like my office. Don't tell me." He held up his forefinger and fixed her with his eye. "It's Middlemist," he cried triumphantly, "and you've an Oriental kind of Christian name Zora! Am I right?"

Here and there, of course " "I know. The trifling things. They are part of the banquet of life. One eats and forgets." Sypher glanced at him and nodded his appreciation of the Literary Man's neat way of putting things. But he did not reply. He ate his fish in silence, hardly tasting it, his mind far away following Zora Middlemist across the seas.

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