nt swinging with
him as though to cheer him on; the horse under him galloped before,
and the faster he galloped the wilder was the music and the dizzier the
world. He was exultant, omnipotent, supreme. He had long known that this
glory was somewhere if it could only be found, all his days he seemed to
have been searching for it; he beat his horse's neck, he drove his legs
against his sides. "Go on! Go on! Go on!" he cried. "Faster! Faster!
Faster!"

The strangest things seemed to rise to his notice and then fall again--a
peaked policeman's hat, flowers, a sudden flame of gas, the staring eyes
and dead white arms of the golden woman, the flying forms of the horses
in front of him. All the world was on horseback, all the world was
racing higher and higher, faster and faster. He saw someone near him
rise on to his horse's back and stand on it, waving his arms. He would
like to have done that, but he found that he was part of his horse, as
though he had been glued to it. He shouted, he cried aloud, he was so
happy that he thought of no one and nothing... The flame danced about
him in a circle, he seemed to rise so high that there was a sudden
stillness, he was in the very heart of the stars; then came the supreme
moment when, as he had always known, that one day he would be, he was
master of the world... Then, like Lucifer, he fell. Slowly the stars
receded, the music slackened, people rocked on to their feet again...
The Two-Headed Giant slipped hack once more into his place, he saw the
sinister lady still devouring her supper, women looking up at him gaped.
His horse gave a last little leap and died.

This marvellous experience he repeated four times, and every time with
an ecstasy more complete than the last. He rushed to a height, he fell,
he rushed again, he fell, and at every return to a sober life his one
intention was instantly to be off on his steed once more. He was about
to start on his fifth journey, he had paid his halfpenny, he was sitting
forward with his hands on the black mane, his eyes, staring, were filled
already with the glory that he knew was coming to him, his cheeks were
crimson, his hat on the back of his head, his hair flying. He heard a
voice, quiet and cool, a little below him, but very near:

"Jeremy... Jeremy. Come off that. You've got to go home."

He looked down and saw his Uncle Samuel.

IV

It was all over; he knew at once that it was all over.

As he slipped down from his d