"But we are all cogs, in a way."
"Look out. You'll be an Ultimate Ender yet."
"Is being a cog the ultimate end of everything?"
"Something like it. We are all specks in a cosmos that's more complicated than a Chinese puzzle. You reincarnate and reincarnate for millions of cycles, and when you get through you're only a sphere with a face in the middle. Did you know that? Your spiritual you, when it's been perfected through a billion æons is going to be a kind of gas bag with features in the center. The latest discoveries in all occultism prove it."
Jean laughed. "I believe I'll stop off half way. The Ultimate End doesn't appeal to me."
"I'll stop off in that place, too,——" Gregory did not finish, and Jean did not ask him what he had been going to say. Hand in hand they walked along, until they came in sight of the brightly lit station.
"It's been a glorious afternoon, hasn't it?"
Jean nodded.
On the next night, which was the last of Gregory's stay, they had dinner at The Fiesole. Jean did not want to go there, but when Gregory proposed it, she could think of no good reason and so they went. Gregory filled their glasses, and across the raised rim of his, smiled to Jean.
"Amos Palmer!"