“Thank you,” said Lester, smiling, “it does one a lot of good when one finds that some one has cared about one’s work. I think that I have a special affection for this one, it had more of myself in it. But will you forgive my saying it, I had scarcely expected you, Maradick, to care about it.” “Why?” asked Maradick. Lester’s voice was beautifully soft and musical, and it seemed to be in tune with the room, the scene, the hour. “Well, we are, you know, in a way at the opposite ends of the pole. You are practical; a business man; it is your work, your place in life, to be practical. I am a dreamer through and through. I would have been practical if I could. I have made my ludicrous attempts, but I have long ago given it up. I have been cast for another rôle. The visions, the theories, the story of such a man as I am must seem stupidly, even weakly vague and insufficient to such a man as you. I should not have thought that ‘To Paradise’ could have seemed to you anything but a moonstruck fantasy. Perhaps that is what it really is.” He spoke a little sadly, looking out at the sky. “I am afraid that is what it is,” he said. “Is it not possible,” said Maradick slowly, “that a man should, at different times in his life, have played both rôles? Can one not be practical and yet have one’s dreams? Can one not have one’s dreams and yet be practical?” As he spoke he looked at the man and tried to see him from Mrs. Lester’s point of view. He was little and brown and nervous; his eyes were soft and beautiful, but they were the eyes of a seer. Mr. Lester shook his head. “I think it is possible to be practical and yet to have your dreams. I will not deny that you have yours; but the other thing—no, I shall never see the world as it is. And yet, you know,” he went on, smiling a little, “the world will never let me alone. I think that at last I shall see that for which I have been searching, that at last I shall hear that for which I have been listening so long; and then suddenly the world breaks in upon it and shatters it, and it vanishes away. One has one’s claims, one is not alone; but oh! if I had only an hour when there might be no interruption. But I’m really ashamed, Maradick; this must seem, to put it bluntly, so much rot to you, and indeed to anyone except myself.” “No,” said Maradick. “I think I understand more than you would expect. A month ago it might have been different, but now——” “Ah,” said Lester, laughing, “the place has caught you, as it does everyone.” “No, not only the place,” said Maradick slowly, “there is something else. I was here last year, but I did not feel, I did not see as I do now.” “Yes, it’s Tony Gale as well.” “Tony?” “Yes. Believe me, there’s nothing that a boy like that cannot do with his happiness and youth. It goes out from him and spreads like a magic wand. If people only knew how much they owed to that kind of influence——”