...
He was falling into deeper and deeper sleep, into that eternal region
where he no longer thought, but knew... Immense processions of
shifting imagery absorbed him into themselves, spontaneous,
unfamiliar, self-multiplying, and as exquisitely baffling as God and
all His angels....
The subsidence of the external world seemed suddenly complete.
So deeply was he sunk that he reached that common pool of fluid
essence upon which all minds draw according to their needs and powers.
Relations were established, wires everywhere connected. The central
switchboard clicked all round him; brains linked with brains, asleep
or not asleep. He was so deep within himself that, as the children and
the Story phrased it, he was 'out.' The air grew light and radiant.
'Hooray! I'm out!' and he instantly thought of his cousin.
'So am I!' That wumbled author shot immediately into connection with
him. 'And so is Mother--for the first time. Come on: we'll all go
together.'
It was unnecessary to specify where, for that same second they found
themselves in the room of Mlle. Lemaire. At this hour of the night it
was usually dark, except for the glimmer of the low-turned lamp the
sufferer never quite extinguished.
From dusk till dawn her windows in La Citadelle shone faintly for all
to see who chanced to pass along the village street.
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