But those were the only shadows which had blurred the exquisiteness of the dream, and the effect of them, after all, had been to make it even more real. For, as she had to admit, those were the very questions that They _would_ ask, Over There, until their excitement over their parents’ arrival had sobered down a little. Later on, too, they would ask, at intervals, again, for even in the busiest lives there are hours when, the body quiet, the mind insists upon travelling. But she would not mind it so much, then.... It was only Ellen who had given her something of a shock,--whose questions, now that she came to think of them, did not seem quite real. The rest of the experience, however, had been pure joy, so full of laughter and sweet looks and tender touches that it seemed as if the sensation of them must last for ever. There were the grandchildren, too,--but she must give an hour or two, later, to thinking about them. They were too many, and too dear, to be hurried over when she ought to be getting up and seeing to Kirkby’s breakfast. But the biggest thing in the dream had been the feeling of escape,--together with that exhilarating sense of space after which she had always hankered, without rhyme or reason. Other places, no doubt, could have given her that same sense, but it was Canada that had captured her imagination. Canada as a whole seemed to have got into the dream, with its strong air, its mountains and lakes, and its long stretches of land reaching to the great line of its horizon. She thought of prairies and woods, and great rivers, and ice-bound harbours. She saw the glint of gold, and dog-sledges racing over frozen country. She saw the soft colours of ripened orchards, and a fresh wind running for miles over the stooping heads of wheat.... All that she had heard and read about the Dominion seemed to have merged into one single setting for that keen adventure of her spirit. It had all been wonderful beyond imagining, joyful beyond ecstasy; perfect,--no, not quite perfect. There had been just one thing lacking,--one person who had not been present. Kirkby was not in the dream.... II She was still wondering why Kirkby was not in the dream when she had got herself out of bed and was beginning to dress quickly, although not so quickly as she was in the habit of dressing, for her limbs felt heavy, this morning, as if her body also had travelled in the night. Her mind, too, was still inclined to wander, so that at intervals she found herself losing touch with what she was doing. In the very act of fastening button or tape, sewn on with that efficient sureness which was her distinguishing characteristic, she would pause to answer some question put by a voice which could not be less than three thousand miles away.