"Still, Sir Frederick objects
strongly to people who interfere with him, and he may not care to have
the young Savage poet, or poet Savage, hanging about."
"Father? He won't mind a bit. He says he's going to take part of the
Palazzo Barberini for six months. It's big enough to hold fifty
poets."
"Not big enough to hold one like Mr. Savage Keith Rickman." Kitty rose
to her feet; she stood majestic, for the spirit of prophecy was upon
her; she gathered herself together for the deliverance of her soul.
"You say he won't be in the way. He will. He'll be most horribly in
the way. He'll go sliding and falling all over the place, and dashing
cups of coffee on the marble floor of the Palazzo; he'll wind his feet
in the tails of your best gowns, not out of any malice, but in sheer
nervous panic; he'll do unutterable things with soup--I can see him
doing them."
"I can't."
"No. I know you can't. I don't say you've no imagination; but I _do_
say you're deficient in a certain kind of profane fancy."
CHAPTER XXVI
It was extraordinary; if he had given himself time to reflect on it he
might even have considered it uncanny, the peace that had settled on
him with regard to the Harden Library.
It remained absolutely unshaken by the growing agitation of his
father's letters. Isaac wrote reproachfully, irritably, frantically,
and received only the briefest, most unsatisfactory replies. "I can't
tell you anything more than I have.
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