Great multitudes of people will pass softly to and fro in this central space, beautiful girls and youths going to the University classes that are held in the stately palaces about us, grave and capable men and women going to their businesses, children meandering along to their schools, holiday makers, lovers, setting out upon a hundred quests; and here we shall ask for the two we more particularly seek. A graceful little telephone kiosk will put us within reach of them, and with a queer sense of unreality I shall find myself talking to my Utopian twin. He has heard of me, he wants to see me and he gives me clear directions how to come to him. I wonder if my own voice sounds like that. "Yes," I say, "then I will come as soon as we have been to our hotel." We indulge in no eloquence upon this remarkable occasion. Yet I feel an unusual emotional stir. I tremble greatly, and the telephonic mouthpiece rattles as I replace it. And thence the botanist and I walk on to the apartments that have been set aside for us, and into which the poor little rolls of the property that has accumulated about us in Utopia, our earthly raiment, and a change of linen and the like, have already been delivered. As we go I find I have little to say to my companion, until presently I am struck by a transitory wonder that he should have so little to say to me. "I can still hardly realise," I say, "that I am going to see myself--as I might have been." "No," he says, and relapses at once into his own preoccupation. For a moment my wonder as to what he should be thinking about brings me near to a double self-forgetfulness. I realise we are at the entrance of our hotel before I can formulate any further remark. "This is the place," I say. CHAPTER THE EIGHTH My Utopian Self Section 1 It falls to few of us to interview our better selves. My Utopian self is, of course, my better self--according to my best endeavours--and I must confess myself fully alive to the difficulties of the situation. When I came to this Utopia I had no thought of any such intimate self-examination. The whole fabric of that other universe sways for a moment as I come into his room, into his clear and ordered work-room. I am trembling. A figure rather taller than myself stands against the light. He comes towards me, and I, as I advance to meet him, stumble against a chair. Then, still without a word, we are clasping hands.