After years of methodical labour the
freedom of too long a holiday was disorganising. He tried to steady
himself. And the Plan of Life, answering to control, grew smaller
instantly, reduced to proportions he could examine reasonably. This
was the beginning of success. The bewildering light of fairyland still
glimmered, but no longer so diffused. It focused into little definite
kernels he could hold steady while he scrutinised them.
And these kernels he examined carefully as might be: in the quiet,
starry evenings usually, while walking alone in St. James's Park after
his day of board meetings, practical work with Minks, and the like.
Gradually then, out of the close survey, emerged certain things that
seemed linked together in an intelligible sequence of cause and
effect. There was still mystery, for subconscious investigation ever
involves this background of shadow. Question and Wonder watched him.
But the facts emerged.
He jotted them down on paper as best he could. The result looked like
a Report drawn up by Minks, only less concise and--he was bound to
admit it--less intelligible. He smiled as he read them over....
'My thoughts and longings, awakened that night in the little Crayfield
garden,' he summed it up to himself, having read the Report so far,
'went forth upon their journey of realisation.
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