The conifers, flourishing
there, have grown to magnificent height. The effect of rain
upon the statues has not been so happy, and I have set my pail
down to pick a snail off the saddle-nose of Socrates and
meditate and wonder what he would have thought of it all.
"The dancing-saloon--still advertising itself as 'Baronial
Hall'--had been converted into a main ward, holding forty beds.
It was there that Farrell found me at work, that night. He had
interviewed the Adjutant--as we called the harassed secretary
who, brayed daily between the upper and nether millstones of
official instructions and 'voluntary effort,' never left his
desk nor dared to wander abroad for fresh air--the gardens
having been specially laid out to trick the absent-minded and
induce them to lose their way. Farrell had simply told the
Adjutant that he wished to see me on urgent personal business.
The Adjutant could not hesitate before a presence that might, in
its dress-clothes and sable-lined overcoat, have stood among the
statues outside for personified Opulence.
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