cky, I'm going out for a bit."

She was breathing regularly. The patch of light fell clear of the
striped blanket, and began to cover the shawl that lay over her feet.
Why had he been afraid? He went to the window, and saw that the moon
was descending through a clear sky. He saw her volcanoes, and the bright
expanses that a gracious error has named seas. They paled, for the sun,
who had lit them up, was coming to light the earth. Sea of Serenity, Sea
of Tranquillity, Ocean of the Lunar Storms, merged into one lucent drop,
itself to slip into the sempiternal dawn. And he had been afraid of the
moon!

He dressed among the contending lights, and went through his money. It
was running low again, but enough for a return ticket to Hilton. As it
clinked, Jacky opened her eyes.

"Hullo, Len! What ho, Len!"

"What ho, Jacky! see you again later."

She turned over and slept.

The house was unlocked, their landlord being a salesman at Covent
Garden. Leonard passed out and made his way down to the station. The
train, though it did not start for an hour, was already drawn up at the
end of the platform, and he lay down in it and slept. With the first
jolt he was in daylight; they had left the gateways of King's Cross,
and were under blue sky. Tunnels followed, and after each the sky grew
bluer, and from the embankment at Finsbury Park he had his first sight
of the sun. It rolled along behind the eastern smokes--a wheel, whose
fellow was the descending moon--and as yet it seemed the servant of the
blue sky, not its lord. He dozed again. Over Tewin Water it was day. To
the left fell the shadow of the embankment and its arches; to the right
Leonard saw up into the Tewin Woods and towards the church, with its
wild legend of immortality. Six forest trees--that is a fact--grow out
of one of the graves in Tewin churchyard. The grave's occupant--that is
the legend--is an atheist, who declared that if God existed, six forest
trees would grow out of her grave. These things in Hertfordshire; and
farther afield lay the house of a hermit--Mrs. Wilcox had known him--who
barred himself up, and wrote prophecies, and gave all he had to the
poor. While, powdered in between, were the villas of business men, who
saw life more steadily, though with the steadiness of the half-closed
eye. Over all the sun was streaming, to all the birds were singing, to
all the primroses were yellow, and the speedwell blue, and the country,
however they interpreted