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Mwres hesitated.
"
There's a sum--in fact, a considerable sum--invested in the Patent Road
Company. From her mother. That's what makes the thing so exasperating."
"Exactly," said the hypnotist. And he proceeded to cross-examine Mwres
on the entire affair.
It was a lengthy interview.
And meanwhile "Elizebeθ Mwres," as she spelt her name, or "Elizabeth
Morris" as a nineteenth-century person would have put it, was sitting in
a quiet waiting-place beneath the great stage upon which the
flying-machine from Paris descended. And beside her sat her slender,
handsome lover reading her the poem he had written that morning while on
duty upon the stage. When he had finished they sat for a time in
silence; and then, as if for their special entertainment, the great
machine that had come flying through the air from America that morning
rushed down out of the sky.
At first it was a little oblong, faint and blue amidst the distant
fleecy clouds; and then it grew swiftly large and white, and larger and
whiter, until they could see the separate tiers of sails, each hundreds
of feet wide, and the lank body they supported, and at last even the
swinging seats of the passengers in a dotted row. Although it was
falling it seemed to them to be rushing up the sky, and over the
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