'Waking!--what is it?' he cried thinly. He thought swiftly of something vague and muddy--something dull, disordered, incomplete. Here it was all glass-clear. 'Where are you? I can't find you. I can't see!' A dreadful, searching pain shot through him. He was losing her, just when he had found her. He struggled, clung, fought frantically to hold her. But his fingers seized the air. 'Oh, I shall find you--even when you wake,' he heard far away among the stars. 'Try and remember me--when I come. _Try and remember_....' It dipped into the distance. He had lost her. He caught a glimpse of the Pleiades as he fell at a fearful speed. Some one behind them picked up stars and tossed them after him. They dimmed as they shot by--from gold to white, from white to something very pale. Behind them rose a wave of light that hurt his eyes. 'Look out! The Interfering Sun!' came a disappearing voice that was followed by a peal of laughter. 'I hope you found her, and I hope you caught it well. You deserved to....' There was a scent of hair that he loved, a vision of mischievous brown eyes, an idea that somebody was turning a somersault beside him--and then he landed upon the solid earth with a noise like thunder. The room was dark. At first he did not recognise it. Through the open window came the clatter of lumbering traffic that passed heavily down St. James's Street. He rose stiffly from his chair, vexed with himself for having dozed. It was more than a doze, though; he had slept some thirty minutes by his watch. No memory of any dreams was in him-- nothing but a feeling of great refreshing lightness and peace.... It was wonderful, he reflected, as he changed into country clothes for his walk in Richmond Park, how even the shortest nap revives the brain and body. There was a sense that an immense interval had elapsed, and that something very big had happened or was going to happen to him very soon.... And an hour later he passed through the Richmond Gate and found the open spaces of the Park deserted, as they always were. The oaks and bracken rustled in a gentle breeze. The swishing of his boots through the wet grass was the only sound he heard, for the boom and purr of distant London reached him more as touch than as something audible. Seated on a fallen tree, he watched the stars and listened to the wind. That hum and boom of the city seemed underground, the flare it tossed into the sky rose from vast furnaces below the world. The stars danced lightly far beyond its reach, secure and unafraid. He thought of children dancing with twinkling feet upon the mountains....