...
It was Minks, drawing the keen air noisily into his lungs in great
draughts, who recalled him to himself.
'I could find my way here without a guide, Mr. Campden,' he was saying
diffidently, burning to tell how the Story had moved him. 'It's all so
vivid, I can almost see the Net. I feel in it,' and he waved one hand
towards the sky.
The other thanked him modestly. 'That's your power of visualising
then,' he added. 'My idea was, of course, that every mind in the world
is related with every other mind, and that there's no escape--we are
all prisoners. The responsibility is vast.'
'Perfectly. I've always believed it. Ah! if only one could _live_ it!'
Rogers heard this clearly. But it seemed that another heard it with
him. Some one very close beside him shared the hearing. He had
recovered from his temporary shock. Only the wonder remained. Life was
sheer dazzling glory. The talk continued as they hurried along the
road together. Rogers became aware then that his cousin was giving
information--meant for himself.
'... A most charming little lady, indeed. She comes from over there,'
and he pointed to where the Pleiades were climbing the sky towards the
East, 'in Austria somewhere. She owns a big estate among the
mountains. She wrote to me--I've had _such_ encouraging letters, you
know, from all sorts of folk--and when I replied, she telegraphed to
ask if she might come and see me.
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