Out of the Past — page 47: what you’re looking at

Machine-transcribed from the original scan — historical spelling and the odd misread are preserved.

CHAPTER IV. “Of what use their battling? Their nature’s converge hy- menward like rivers down deep water-courses. Give them let.” —Old Play. On a day in December, Robert sought Benedict and asked to sit with him high in the tower, where he had woven so many wreaths of fair fancies. Here he could smoke and Benedict could stretch his length in a deep embrasure. Far below extended the city, and out through clear vastness hung the rim of the horizon set in a mist of opals. The last months of separation had added a keen personal appreciation to their relations. They were glad to be alone in silence. “Is life in the world still fair to you?” asked Benedict, dreamily, at length. “Yes—it lures me into forgetfulness of my bugbears. There is saneness in its struggles and interests.” “Little time for brooding, I suppose.” “No time at all. Here a rehearsal, there a lesson, now a concert, next a call, then the great body of work for supremacy.” “You are working for fame?” EMNMMICEOOOKS. EO