ait until we get to the Magical Island where it is always warm. We
can be out there together all day long."

"Just you and I together?"

"Just you and I together," she repeated; "unless you want any one else."

"I want nothing and no one in the world but only you."

A little thrill ran through her at the thought of his utter dependence
on her, for she was literally his whole world.

He stood, but for her, absolutely isolated, absolutely alone--the
friends of his early life forgotten, wiped out as though they had never
been; but what matter since it made him more entirely hers?

Each day brought Philippa its draught of Love's elixir, and she drank
it lingeringly, unwilling to lose a drop. And in some curious way the
potion wrought a change in her. She adopted a new personality. It was
not that of Phil--the Phil she had undertaken to represent, for she
would have had recollections of old days to linger over with him--but a
new Phil, reborn in a wonderful present, with no past because he could
not share it, and with a future veiled in half-fearful, wholly
delicious mystery.

To-day, the glorious Now, was his and hers, they were together on the
hill where Hope stands smiling, and if, somewhere below that dizzy
altitude, there was a valley where Memory lurked, she could not see it
for the rainbow clouds of joy that wrapped her round.

Francis had walked to the uncurtained window and was standing looking
out, and after a while his voice broke in upon her thoughts.

"Come and look at the sunset, sweetheart."

The sky behind the clump of tall elms was tinged with tenderest rose,
and here and there wisps of greyish-purple cloud were floating across
the glow. All was very calm, very still, the silence broken only by
the low notes of the birds who sung their vesper hymn. Side by side
they watched the shadows creep softly over a drowsy earth.

"A sleeping world--a world of dreams," Francis said gently. "You and I
in a beautiful world of dreams."

She made no answer, and after a minute he added, "To-morrow it will
wake. Must we wake too, dear love?"

"Oh no," she cried quickly. "Why do you say that?"

"Somewhere out there," he continued thoughtfully, "there is a world of
action. I wonder if it will call to us?"

"If it calls we will not listen."

"I have lost count of much, I think. I seem to have lived long in
dreamland. Perhaps it is because I still feel weak, that at times
illusive, intangible thoug