"What amuses you?" Paula was asking.
"Heaven knows I am no architect. And I challenge you to house seven
philosophers according to all the absurd stipulations laid down by
Dick."
Back in his tower room with his Andean books unopened before him,
Graham gnawed his lip and meditated. The woman was no woman. She was
the veriest child. Or--and he hesitated at the thought--was this
naturalness that was overdone? Did she in truth apprehend? It must be.
It had to be. She was of the world. She knew the world. She was very
wise. No remembered look of her gray eyes but gave the impression of
poise and power. That was it--strength! He recalled her that first
night when she had seemed at times to glint an impression of steel, of
thin and jewel-like steel. In his fancy, at the time, he remembered
likening her strength to ivory, to carven pearl shell, to sennit
twisted of maidens' hair.
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