"Of all the visions which have passed before your eyes within the depths of that crystal globe," said Duane, "—of all the histories of men and women which, unsuspected by them, you have witnessed, seated here in this silent, silk-hung place, we desire to hear only those in which Fate has been swiftest, Opportunity a loosened arrow, Destiny a flash of lightning."[8]
"But the victims of quick action must be nameless, except as I choose to mask them," she said, looking dreamily into her crystal.
After a moment's silence Duane said in a low voice:
"Does anybody notice the odour of orange blossoms?"
We all noticed the fragrance.
"I seem to catch a whiff of the sea, also," ventured Stafford. "Am I right?"
"Yes," she nodded, "you will notice the odour of the semi-tropics, even if you miss the point of everything I tell you."
"In other words," said I, "we are but a material bunch, Athalie, and may be addressed and amused only through our physical senses. Very well: transpose from the spiritual for us if you please a little story of quick action which has happened here in the crystal under your matchless eyes!"[9]
