It was more than a doze, though; he had slept some
thirty minutes by his watch. No memory of any dreams was in him--
nothing but a feeling of great refreshing lightness and peace....
It was wonderful, he reflected, as he changed into country clothes for
his walk in Richmond Park, how even the shortest nap revives the brain
and body. There was a sense that an immense interval had elapsed, and
that something very big had happened or was going to happen to him
very soon....
And an hour later he passed through the Richmond Gate and found the
open spaces of the Park deserted, as they always were. The oaks and
bracken rustled in a gentle breeze. The swishing of his boots through
the wet grass was the only sound he heard, for the boom and purr of
distant London reached him more as touch than as something audible.
Seated on a fallen tree, he watched the stars and listened to the
wind. That hum and boom of the city seemed underground, the flare it
tossed into the sky rose from vast furnaces below the world. The stars
danced lightly far beyond its reach, secure and unafraid. He thought
of children dancing with twinkling feet upon the mountains....
And in himself there was hum and light as well. Too deep, too far
below the horizon for full discovery, he caught the echo, the faint,
dim flashings of reflection that are called by men a Mood.
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