That these two friends, eachsupreme in his own field, should have entered into their heritage sonearly at the same moment, is one of the many seemingly curiouscoincidences of literary history. The customary Sunday assemblage of strangers is gathered together in the grounds discussing the house. For the study of human nature the Nevada assembly was a veritablelecture-room. Such trips furnished a delicious respite from thefevered struggle around tunnel and shaft.
Considerate of them, he thought sleepily. A publisher mustlead his subscription list, not follow it. Well, there was one that came close, Sethos conceded, with a sentimental look at me. I am Justin Fitzroyce.
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