“We hope, when we’re tired, that there is such a place as the Land of Dreams, but we imagine it’s somewhere east of the sun, and west of the moon. We don’t realise that all we’ve got to do to get there is to walk out of our front door.” “It all depends upon the inward eye, doesn’t it?” said the boy. “Or, perhaps, indeed, it needs a double inward eye—two personalities, you know, harmonised in a subtle sort of way, so as to bring it into focus. You see what I mean? I don’t think I could get the whole dreamy adorableness of this if I hadn’t you beside me.” “Do you mean that, Tommy?” she asked, with eyes fixed on the Rhone. “Of course I do,” he replied, earnestly. Her lips worked themselves into a smile. “I never thought my personality could harmonise with any other on God’s earth.” “You’ve lived a life of horrible, rank injustice.” She started, as if hurt. “Ah! don’t say that.” “To yourself, I mean, dearest Clementina. You’ve never allowed yourself a good quality. Now you’re beginning to find out your mistake.” “When it’s pointed out that I can harmonise with your beautiful nature!” At the flash of the old Clementina, Tommy laughed. “I’m not going to deny that there’s good in me. Why should I? If there wasn’t, I shouldn’t be here. You wouldn’t have asked me to be your companion,” he added quickly, fearing lest she might put a wrong construction on his words. “When a good woman does a man the honour of admitting him to her intimate companionship, he knows he’s good—and it makes him feel better.” Her left elbow rested on the parapet of the bridge, and her chin rested on the palm of her hand. Without looking at him she stretched out the other hand and touched him. “Thank you for saying that, Tommy,” she said in a low voice.