She put a hand out, catching at the flying banner of his Story that he
trailed behind him in the air. They formed a single design, all three.
His happiness became enormous.
'I feel joined on to everything,' she replied, half singing it in her
joy. 'I feel tucked into the universe everywhere, and into you, dear.
These rays of starlight have sewn us together.' She began to tremble,
but it was the trembling of pure joy and not of alarm....
'Yes,' he said, 'I'm learning it too. The moment thought gets away
from self it lets in starlight and makes room for happiness. To think
with sympathy of others is to grow: you take in their experience and
add it to your own--development; the heart gets soft and deep and wide
till you feel the entire universe buttoning its jacket round you. To
think of self means friction and hence reduction.'
'And your Story,' she added, glancing up proudly at the banner that
they trailed. 'I have helped a little, haven't I?'
'It's nearly finished,' he flashed back; 'you've been its inspiration
and its climax. All these years, when we thought ourselves apart,
you've been helping really underground--that's true collaboration.'
'Our little separation was but a _reculer pour mieux sauter_. See how
we've rushed together again!'
A strange soft singing, like the wind in firs, or like shallow water
flowing over pebbles, interrupted them.
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