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ing. At times, learning is like bliss, at other times, it is a strain. Learning of things subordinate to man comes easy, but learning about man, about life and the truths, comes hard. Even the initiate finds himself, or, as in her case, herself, always in the midst of a struggle. It is as if one were always on the second rung of the ladder of wisdom, never on the last. The more we know, the lonelier we become, until that last rung is reached. Only then do we lose the sensation of loneliness. What man on earth would not be painfully lonely if he paused long enough to do some truly profound thinking? But in the glory of the final ascension, thinking becomes life itself, and then loneliness becomes an erased fantasy.” (As I listened to him I realized it was going to be very difficult to relate his story in the second person, as he sug- gested. In the months that followed I had to decide to tell it as it could be told, to adhere to the facts, and swing from first person to second person when and however required. After all, he did say to disregard anything he advised, if necessary.) At intervals we could hear the traffic passing by about thirty yards away. The aroma of the brewing coffee was pleasant. Now and then an airplane droned past, going eastward or westward. There was nothing outwardly different about this night, but Adam and I felt different. In a sense, we were different. We were still enhanced by the effect of the nectar. Then Adam began his long story. The telling of it took up most of three nights. “It may sound strange, Orfeo, but after the first shock of realization of my incurable condition leveled off to a resig- nation and acceptance of it, all things seemed to change in my perspective. It was as though my whole being did a flip-over, like pulling the cord of a Venetian blind. What had been to me the big things of life became insignificant, and 39 THE DANCE IN A GLASS “In her world she is one of the hindmost. But she is learn-