'We were just passing the Citadelle
fountain. I saw the big star upon the top of Boudry, and made a remark
about it.' His cousin was getting sadly wumbled. He tried to put
severity and concentration into his voice.
'That's it,' the other cried, head on one side and holding up a
finger, 'because I remember that my own thought wandered for a moment
--thought will, you know, in spite of one's best effort sometimes--and
you said a thing that sent a little shiver of pleasure through me for
an instant--something about a Starlight Train--and made me wonder
where you got the idea. That's it. I do believe you've hit the nail on
the head. Isn't it curious sometimes how a practical mind may suggest
valuable material to the artist? I remember, several years ago----'
'Starlight Express, wasn't it?' said his friend with decision in his
voice. He thumped the table vigorously with one fist. 'Keep to the
point, old man. Follow it out. Your idea is splendid.'
'Yes, I do believe it is.' Something in his voice trembled.
One sentence in particular Rogers heard, for it seemed plucked out of
the talk he had with the children in the forest that day two weeks
ago.
'You see, all light meets somewhere. It's all one, I mean. And so with
minds. They all have a common meeting-place. Sympathy is the name for
that place--that state--they feel with each other, see flash-like from
the same point of view for a moment.
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