be hypnotised, and the dream, she said,
was wonderful, when she came to again.

The other two girls, encouraged by her enthusiasm, also placed
themselves in the hands of the hypnotist and had plunges into the
romantic past. No one suggested that Elizabeth should try this novel
entertainment; it was at her own request at last that she was taken into
that land of dreams where there is neither any freedom of choice nor
will....

And so the mischief was done.

One day, when Denton went down to that quiet seat beneath the flying
stage, Elizabeth was not in her wonted place. He was disappointed, and a
little angry. The next day she did not come, and the next also. He was
afraid. To hide his fear from himself, he set to work to write sonnets
for her when she should come again....

For three days he fought against his dread by such distraction, and then
the truth was before him clear and cold, and would not be denied. She
might be ill, she might be dead; but he would not believe that he had
been betrayed. There followed a week of misery. And then he knew she was
the only thing on earth worth having, and that he must seek her, however
hopeless the search, until she was found once more.

He had some small private means of his own, and so he threw over his
appointment on the flying stage, and set himself to find this girl who
had become at last all the world to him. He did not know where she
lived, and little of her circumstances; for it had been part of the
delight of her girlish romance that he should know nothing of her,
nothing of the difference of their station. The ways of the city opened
before him east and west, north and south. Even in Victorian days London
was a maze, that little London with its poor four millions of people;
but the London he explored, the London of the twenty-second century, was
a London of thirty million souls. At first he was energetic and
headlong, taking time neither to eat nor sleep. He sought for weeks and
months, he went through every imaginable phase of fatigue and despair,
over-excitement and anger. Long after hope was dead, by the sheer
inertia of his desire he still went to and fro, peering into faces and
looking this way and that, in the incessant ways and lifts and passages
of that interminable hive of men.

At last chance was kind to him, and he saw her.

It was in a time of festivity. He was hungry; he had paid the inclusive
fee and had gone into one of the gigantic dining-places