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Ernestine turned on the black-bearded one: "Now, Aaron He's not in forson so well has said, with the utmost refinement of philosophic speech allied with the most cohter roared down the table, drowning Ernestine's conclusion as well as the laughing retort of the black-bearded one

"Our philosophers won't have a chance to-night," Paula stole in an aside to Graham

"Philosophers?" he questioned back "They didn't co crowd Who and what are they? I'm all at sea"

"They--" Paula hesitated "They live here They call thele-birds They have a camp in the woods a couple ofexcept read and talk I'll wager, right now, you'll find fifty of Dick's latest, uncatalogued books in their cabins They have the run of the library, as well, and you'll see theht, with their arazines Dick says they are responsible for his possessing the most exhaustive and up-to-date library on philosophy on the Pacific Coast In a way, they sort of digest such things for hireat fun for Dick, and, besides, it saves him time He's a dreadfully hard worker, you know"

"I understand that they that Dick takes care of theht into the blue eyes that looked so straight into his

As she answered, he was occupied with noting the faintest hint of bronze--perhaps a trick of the light--in her long, brown lashes Perforce, he lifted his gaze to her eyebrows, brown, delicately stenciled, andhis gaze to her high-piled hair, he again saw, but olden hair Nor did he fail to startle and thrill to a dazzlement of smile and teeth and eye that frequently lived its life in her face Hers was no thin sed When she senerously, joyously, throwing the largess of all her being into the natural expression of as herself and which domiciled somewhere within that pretty head of hers

"Yes," she was saying "They have never to worry, as long as they live, over enerous, and, rather iement of idleness on the part of men like them It's a funny place, as you'll find out until you come to understand us They they are appurtenances, and--and hereditas They will be with us always until we bury them or they bury us Once in a while one or another of them drifts away--for a tiet them back Terrence, there--Terrence McFane--he's an epicurean anarchist, if you knohat that ave him, a Persian of the bluest blue, and he carefully picks her fleas, not injuring them, stores the walks when he tires of human companionship and communes with nature