first train I could back to London."

"But was the dawn wonderful?" asked Helen.

With unforgettable sincerity he replied, "No." The word flew again like
a pebble from the sling. Down toppled all that had seemed ignoble or
literary in his talk, down toppled tiresome R. L. S. and the "love of
the earth" and his silk top-hat. In the presence of these women Leonard
had arrived, and he spoke with a flow, an exultation, that he had seldom
known.

"The dawn was only grey, it was nothing to mention."

"Just a grey evening turned upside down. I know."

"--and I was too tired to lift up my head to look at it, and so cold
too. I'm glad I did it, and yet at the time it bored me more than I can
say. And besides--you can believe me or not as you choose--I was very
hungry. That dinner at Wimbledon--I meant it to last me all night
like other dinners. I never thought that walking would make such a
difference. Why, when you're walking you want, as it were, a breakfast
and luncheon and tea during the night as well, and I'd nothing but a
packet of Woodbines. Lord, I did feel bad! Looking back, it wasn't what
you may call enjoyment. It was more a case of sticking to it. I did
stick. I--I was determined. Oh, hang it all! what's the good--I mean,
the good of living in a room for ever? There one goes on day after day,
same old game, same up and down to town, until you forget there is any
other game. You ought to see once in a way what's going on outside, if
it's only nothing particular after all."

"I should just think you ought," said Helen, sitting--on the edge of the
table.

The sound of a lady's voice recalled him from sincerity, and he said:
"Curious it should all come about from reading something of Richard
Jefferies."

"Excuse me, Mr. Bast, but you're wrong there. It didn't. It came from
something far greater."

But she could not stop him. Borrow was imminent after Jefferies--Borrow,
Thoreau, and sorrow. R. L. S. brought up the rear, and the outburst
ended in a swamp of books. No disrespect to these great names. The fault
is ours, not theirs. They mean us to use them for sign-posts we
mistake the sign-post for the destination. And Leonard had reached the
destination. He had visited the county of Surrey when darkness covered
its amenities, and its cosy villas had re-entered ancient night. Every
twelve hours this miracle happens, but he had troubled to go and see for
himself. Within his cramped little mind dwelt something tha