"And the Mystic ears, I have no doubt." For a third time the Precursor filled his glass.
"The tongue is mightier--and a good deal more portable--than either the pen or the sword, John," he said, sagely.

"Paving your way with words has been an unrecognized work of art.

But how about yourself?
I have my own curiosity." He wheeled round in his seat and looked into his companion's face.
The Prophet looked away.
"Oh, I had my qualms, too!" he said, slowly.

"Just for a moment the world seemed to tremble, when the old Arch-Councillor groped forward and put his hands over my face.

It swept me off my feet--swept me back ten years.