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Perhaps Jim Speyer was there that evening and we slipped out together, leaving Mics still seated in the black armchair in a mist of cigar smoke. There was a certain metaphysical vein which I enhanced the standard topic of Mics himself. I suppose that it was pretty thoroughly bogus in the sense that it represented only an feature to his professional personality and not a true inwardness inevitable in the character of the medieval peasant as I had chosen to see it; at any rate I read Guardini, as he urged, and tried to lend myself to the concept of liturgy as an element in the "hierarchy of values, or a mystic dimension of religion, or a selling up ear case in the hygiene of the soul - as almost anything which might enrich my own awareness, presumably by showing me how Mics' had been enriched. And I dutifully contemplated lobious modules although I was more able to see any organic connection between the proportions of the human body and those of the Scrooge or any other house, or what