Poets trooped off on an unmapped path, noisy for quite a time over their audacity. The jocund shouts of the coterie echoed in the wilderness, gradually growing indistinct. For it turned out that they did not discover a new highway for the pageantry of the century tofollow. And the priestess they bore off with them has stolen back, forlorn and much bedraggled by the thickets. She, who was so proudly at the forefront, creeps into the ruck, hardly recognised in the press, a hapless struggler in the rabble of camp‐followers.
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