But it's no more like yours than the tortuous stone staircase--half-ruined into the bargain!--in some castle of our quattrocento is like the `lightning elevator' in one of Mr.Verver's fifteen-storey buildings.

Your moral sense works by steam--it sends you up like a rocket.

Ours is slow and steep and unlighted, with so many of the steps missing that--well, that it's as short, in almost any case, to turn round and come down again." "Trusting," Mrs.Assingham smiled, "to get up some other way ?" "Yes--or not to have to get up at all.

However," he added, "I told you that at the beginning." "Machiavelli!" she simply exclaimed.
"You do me too much honour.

I wish indeed I had his genius.