ight,
beneath the lamps, and which was now vague, as in a mist,
because of the dawn.

Then, as the flush of dawn became stronger, they opened the
glass doors and went on to the giddy balcony, feeling triumphant
as two angels in bliss, looking down at the still sleeping
world, which would wake to a dutiful, rumbling, sluggish turmoil
of unreality.

[But the air was cold. They went into their bedroom, and bathed before
going to bed, leaving the partition doors of the bathroom open, so that
the vapour came into the bedroom and faintly dimmed the mirror. She was
always in bed first. She watched him as he bathed, his quick, unconscious
movements, the electric light glinting on his wet shoulders. He stood out
of the bath, his hair all washed flat over his forehead, and pressed the
water out of his eyes. He was slender, and, to her, perfect, a clean,
straight-cut youth, without a grain of superfluous body. The brown hair on
his body was soft and fine and adorable, he was all beautifully flushed,
as he stood in the white bath-apartment.

He saw her warm, dark, lit-up face watching him from the pillow--yet
he did not see it--it was always present, and was to him as his own
eyes. He was never aware of the separate being of her. She was like his
own eyes and his own heart beating to him.

So he went across to her, to get his sleeping suit. It was always a
perfect adventure to go near to her. She put her arms round him, and
snuffed his warm, softened skin.

"Scent," she said.

"Soap," he answered.

"Soap," she repeated, looking up with bright eyes. They were both
laughing, always laughing.]

Soon they were fast asleep, asleep till midday, close
together, sleeping one sleep. Then they awoke to the
ever-changing reality of their state. They alone inhabited the
world of reality. All the rest lived on a lower sphere.

Whatever they wanted to do, they did. They saw a few
people--Dorothy, whose guest she was supposed to be, and a
couple of friends of Skrebensky, young Oxford men, who called
her Mrs. Skrebensky with entire simplicity. They treated her,
indeed, with such respect, that she began to think she was
really quite of the whole universe, of the old world as well as
of the new. She forgot she was outside the pale of the old
world. She thought she had brought it under the spell of her
own, real world. And so she had.

In such ever-changing reality the weeks went by. All the
time, they were an unknown world to each ot