John Singer Sargent The Rialto

John Singer Sargent The RialtoThe Daughters of Edward Darley BoitThe Chess Game
him, I could not say what. And while it was true that I no longer regarded myself as a Grand Tutor, I was not blind to the possibility that this opinion, like others I'd held, was erroneous, or that in my heart of hearts I might be holding it alongside the conviction that Failure is Passage.
"Ah," he said. "To the Belly, then, by all means!"
I then explained that while I had no fear of WESCAC's EATing me -- which it well might do -- I would not acknowledge its right to examine me, or anyone else's save my own, for reasons that I'd readily set forth to him, but did not regard as the affair of the popular press. To the chagrin therefore of the reporters (some of whom intimated openly that they would "get even" with me) we made our way to the main lobby of Tower Hall, where, as on that fateful night some terms before, a crowd was collecting in the flickerish light, their anxiety nourished by alarums and rumors. Them too Bray urged to wait at the Belly-exit; he and I then took the special lift to WESCAC's Mouth -- a lift guarded now by a squad of ROTC cadets in riot-uniform on account of the general emergency.