Moonchild

points truncated for convenience. Around this there were six seats, made of ebony inlaid with silver discs. Sister Cybele left the others to take her seat as president of the circular table. Simon Iff himself sat at the head of the triangle, placing Cyril Grey and the Mahathera Phang at the other corners. Lord Antony Bowling was at his left, Lisa at his right; Morningside faced him from the base. When all were seated, Sister Cybele rose, struck a bell that stood at her hand, and said: "Do what thou wilt shall be the whole of the Law. O Master of the Temple, what is thy will?" Simon Iff rose in his place. "It is my will to eat and drink," said he. "Why shouldst thou eat and drink?" "To sustain my body in strength." "Why is it thy will that thy body may be sustained in strength?" "That it may aid me in the accomplishment of the Great Work." At this word all rose, and chanted solemnly in chorus, "So mote it be." "Love is the law, love under will," said Sister Cybele softly, and sat down. "Of course it's a most absurd superstition," remarked Morningside to Simon Iff, "to think that Food [79] sustains the body. It is sleep that does that. Food merely renews the tissues. "I agree entirely," said Cyril, before Iff could answer, "and I am about to renew my tissues to the extent of a dozen of these excellent Cherbourg prawns — to begin with!" "My dear man," said Lord Antony, "prawns are much better at the end of a dinner — as you'd know if you had been to Armenia lately." When Morningside said something absurd, it merely meant that he was airing his fads; when Lord Antony did so, it meant a story. And all his stories were good ones. Simon Iff jumped at the opening. He turned immediately, and asked for the yarn. "It's rather long," said Bowling, a little dubiously. "But it's very, very beautiful." Unacknowledged quotations gave a curious fascination to his narrative style. People became interested through the psychological trick involved. They recognized, yet could not place, the remark, and they were stirred by the magick of association, just as one becomes interested in a stranger who reminds one of — one can't quite think who. "At the close of a dark afternoon," pursued Lord Antony, "a huntsman of