or the day is the physical thereof.
And when a man like Barney Bill is unencumbered by the continuous
feminine, the ordinary solution of life is simple. But now the man had
to switch his mind back to times before Paul was born, when the eternal
feminine had played the very devil with him, when all sorts of passions
and emotions had whirled his untrained being into dizziness. No
passions or emotions now affected him; but their memory created an
atmosphere of puzzledom. He had to adjust values. He had to deputize
for Destiny. He also had to harmonize the pathetically absurd with the
grimly real. He took off his cap and scratched his cropped head. After
a while he damned something indefinite and hastened in his
dot-and-carry-one fashion to the van.

"Quite made up yer mind to go in search of yer 'ighborn parents?"

"Ay," said Paul.

"Like me to give yer a lift, say, as far as London?"

Paul sprang to the ground and opened his mouth to speak. But his knees
grew weak and he quivered all over like one who beholds the god. The
abstract nebulous romance of his pilgrimage had been crystallized, in a
flash, into the concrete. "Ay," he panted.

"Ay!" and he steadied himself with his back and elbows against the
shafts.

"That's all right," said Barney Bill, in a matter-of fact way, calm and
godlike to Paul. "You can make up a bed on the floor of the old 'bus
with some of them there mats inside and we'll turn in and have a sleep,
and start at sunrise."

He clambered into the van, followed by Paul, and lit an oil lamp. In a
few moments Paul's bed was made. He threw himself down. The resilient
surface of the mats was luxury after the sacking on the scullery stone.
Barney Bill performed his summary toilet, blew out the lamp and went to
his couch.

Presently Paul started up, smitten by a pang straight through his
heart. He sprang to his feet. "Mister," he cried in the darkness, not
knowing how else to address his protector. "I mun go whoam."

"Wot?" exclaimed the other. "Thought better of it already? Well, go,
then, yer little 'eathen 'ippocrite!"

"I'll coom back," said Paul.

"Yer afeared, yer little rat," said Barney Bill, out of the blackness.

"I'm not," retorted Paul indignantly. "I'm freeten'd of nowt."

"Then what d'yer want to go for? If you've made up yer mind to come
along of me, just stay where you are. If you go home they'll nab you
and whack you for staying out late, and lock you up, and you'll not be
able