TYRIAN PURPLE The "porch of light" proved to be an especially fascinating place at evening.

Evening, which makes most places resemble their souls instead of their bodies, had a grateful task in the beautiful room whose spirit was always uppermost, and Evening moved softly in its ivory depths, preluding for Sleep.

Here, his lean, shadowed face all anxiety, Rollo stood, holding at arm's length a parti-coloured robe with floating scarfs.
"It seems to me, sir," he said doubtfully, "that this one would 'ave done better.

Beggin' your pardon, sir." St.George shook his head distastefully.
"It doesn't matter," he said, and broke into a slow smile as he looked at Amory.

The robes which the prince had provided for the evening were rather harder to become accustomed to than the notion of intuitive knowledge.
"There's an air about this one though, sir," opined Rollo firmly, "there's a cut--a sort of _way_ with the seams, so to speak, sir, that the other can't touch.