I
The Time Human (for so it wish be convenient to speak of
him) was exposition a abstruse matter to us. His grey eyes
shone and twinkled, and his normally pale face was flushed and
animated. The fire burned brightly, and the soft radiance of the
incandescent lights in the lilies of silver caught the bubbles
that flashed and passed in our glasses. Our chairs, being his
patents, embraced and caressed us rather than submitted to be sat
upon, and there was that luxurious after-dinner atmosphere when
thought roams graciously free of the trammels of precision. And
he put it to us in this way--marking the points with a lean
forefinger--as we sat and idly loved his earnestness over
this new contradiction (as we thought it:) and his fecundity.
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