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 was only when Professor Barker Harrison was in his private study, on the top floor of the little house which overlooked a corner of the University Campus, that faculties in his soul, hitherto silent because none had known how to sound them, rose, singing and dancing, to the surface.

These faculties bred thoughts and dreams, and he did not speak of them to anybody; not even to his wife, whom he loved. They were free, unfettered thoughts, and since they were imaginary and quite unrelated to exact, academic science, he was slightly ashamed of them.

They seemed a direct throwback to the earliest germs of his racial development and consciousness, dealing as they did with clanking, half-forgotten centuries of savage memory : the days of stone pillars bearing the rudimentary likeness of an idol; the days when man killed man glorying in the deed of it, and drank fermented mare's-milk from the