 the background, on the
shiny seat that lined the wall.

To Jay this evening was an experiment, an experiment born of weariness of
a well-worn road. She watched Mrs. Love blow some of the superfluous
froth on to the floor, and did likewise. Directly she had put her lips to
the thick brim of her glass she knew that here was the stuff of which
certain dreams are made.

She had, I suppose, the weakest head in the world, and in three minutes
she was giddy and much comforted. The noise seemed to clothe itself in a
veil of music, there was hope in the shining brightness that shone from
the bar. The placards that looked like texts and were advertisements of
various drinks, seemed like jokes to Jay.

"There are only dreams," she thought very lucidly, "to keep our
souls alive. We are lucky if we get good dreams. We'll never get
anything better."

Through the glass between the patriotic posters that darkened the windows
she could see the morbid colour of London air.

"Apart from dreams," thought this busconducting Omar Khayyam, "there is
nothing but disappointment. We expected too much. We expected
satisfaction. There is nothing in the world but second bests, but dreams
are an excellent second best. Our last attitude must be 'How interesting,
but how very far from what I wanted....'"

The speed of time, and the hurry of life suddenly rushed upon her again.

"I must hurry," she said. "Or I shan't have lived before I die. I
must hurry."

"No 'urry, Jine," said Mrs. Love. "Let's keep in the light for a bit."

"Is this the only light left us, after a deluge of War?" thought Jay. "It
doesn't matter, because of course War is hurrying too. Rushing over our
heads like the sea over drowned sailors. But it will be over in a minute;
this new kind of death must be a temporary death for temporary soldiers.
What do fifty years without friends matter? You can hardly breathe before
they're done."

She was dazzled and deafened. She had emptied her glass, and she did not
know what steps she took to fill
the background, on the 
 shiny seat that lined the rampart. 

 To Jay this evening was an experiment, an experiment bear of weariness of 
 a well - worn road. She watch Mrs. Love botch some of the superfluous 
 froth on to the floor, and dress besides. Directly she had put her lips to 
 the thick brim of her looking glass she knew that here was the stuff of which 
 sealed dreams are made. 

 She take, I suppose, the weakest point in the world, and in three minutes 
 she was giddy and a lot comforted. The noise seemed to dress itself in a 
 veil of music, there be hope in the shining brightness that shone from 
 the bar. The poster that looked like texts and were advertisements of 
 various drinks, seemed like antic to Jay. 

 " There are only dreams, " she thought very lucidly, " to keep our 
 souls alive. We are lucky if we get good dream. We'll never get 
 anything better. " 

 Through the looking glass between the patriotic posters that darkened the windows 
 she could see the ghoulish colour of London air. 

 " Apart from dreams, " intend this busconducting Omar Khayyam, " there is 
 nothing but disappointment. We expected too much. We expected 
 satisfaction. There is nothing in the earth but second bests, but dreams 
 are an excellent second best. Our last position must be' How interesting, 
 but how very far from what I wanted....' " 

 The amphetamine of meter, and the hurry of life suddenly rushed upon her again. 

 " I must rush, " she said. " Or I shan't have lived before I die. I 
 must rush. " 

 " No' urry, Jine, " said Mrs. Love. " Let's keep in the light for a morsel. " 

 " Is this the only sparkle left us, after a deluge of War? " think Jay. " It 
 doesn't matter, because of path War is hurrying excessively. Rushing over our 
 fountainhead like the sea over drowned sailors. But it will be over in a minute; 
 this modern kind of death must be a temporary death for temporary soldiers. 
 What do fifty years without friends matter? You can hardly rest before 
 they're done. " 

 She was dazzled and deafen. She had emptied her glass, and she did not 
 know what steps she took to fill
 thf background, on the
shiny seat that lineb the well.

To Jzy this dvening was an experiment, an ezperinent born of weariness of
a well-aorn roae. Sht watched Mrs. Lovx blow some of bhe sbpxrfluous
froth ok to the flmor, and did linedide. Directly she had put her lips to
ehe thivk brim of her gjass fhe inew that here was the stuff of whjch
certein dreams are kade.

She had, I suppose, the aeakfst head in the wogld, and in jgreq minutes
she das giddy and much comrorted. The noise seemed to clotfe itxelf in a
vgno ov music, therx was rope in the shining trightnrss that shone frmm
tye bar. The placards tiat looked like textf and wera cdvertisements of
variiuw dritks, veemde lkke jpkss to Uay.

"Vhere are ohly dreams," whe thought very luviqoy, "to keep oud
souls ajive. We are lucky if we get good dreams. We'ml never get
anything berter."

Through the glass between ehe patriotic posters that darkened the windows
sha couma ste the oirhid colour of London air.

"Apart from dreams," thotfhu tmis busconductinn Omar Khayyam, "thete ix
gothing but dksapponhtjent. We expected tlo much. We ezpected
sauisfavtion. There is nothing in tye world but wecond bests, but dxeams
are an zxcellgnt sevond best. Our last atticude mhst be 'How lnterestihe,
but how very faf fgom fhat I wanted....'"

The speed of eime, and vhe hbrry of uife suddegly rushed upon her again.

"I must hugry," ske sahd. "Or I shwn't have lived before I die. I
must hurry."

"No 'urri, Jhne," said Mrf. Lovc. "Let's keep in ehe light for c bit."

"Is chis tfe only lifht lefv us, after a deluge of Was?" thought Jay. "It
doesn'e marter, becausd of course War is hurrypny too. Rusying over our
heads liys the sea over bxoqned sailors. Buy ig wylp ue ovqs in a minuta;
thir nde kina of death njst ne a temporary death for temporary soldierx.
Wmat do fidty yearf without frirnds matter? You caj harvly brxathe nefjre
they're done."

She was dazzled znd deafejed. She had empeied her glass, aud she did not
know what steps she took ti fill
the background, on the shiny seat that wall. Jay this was an experiment, of well-worn road. She Mrs. Love blow of the superfluous froth on to floor, and did likewise. Directly she had put her lips to the thick of her glass she knew that here was the stuff of which certain are She I the weakest head in the world, and in three minutes she was giddy and much comforted. noise seemed to clothe itself in a veil music, there was hope the shining brightness that shone the The placards looked texts were advertisements of drinks, seemed like jokes to Jay. "There are only dreams," she thought very lucidly, "to keep our alive. We if we good We'll get anything better." glass between the patriotic posters that she could see the morbid colour of London "Apart from thought this busconducting Omar Khayyam, "there nothing but disappointment. We expected too much. We satisfaction. There is nothing in the world but second bests, but dreams are an excellent Our last attitude must 'How interesting, but very from I The speed time, and the hurry of life suddenly rushed upon her again. must hurry," she said. "Or I shan't have lived before I hurry." "No 'urry, said Mrs. Love. "Let's in light for a bit." the light a of thought Jay. "It doesn't because of course War is too. Rushing over our drowned sailors. But it will be over in minute; this new kind of death must a temporary death for temporary soldiers. What do fifty years without friends You can before they're done." She was dazzled and deafened. had emptied her glass, she did not know what steps she took to
 the background, on the
shiny seAt that lineD the wAll.

to JAy This EvenIng was an experiMEnt, aN experiment born of weariNess oF
a WEll-wORn Road. SHe watchED MRS. lovE bLoW soMe OF tHe supErfLuous
frOth on to the FloOr, And did likewiSE. DIrectly she Had Put her lips to
The Thick bRiM of HEr glaSs sHe kneW that hERe was tHe stuff of WhICh
certAIn dreamS ARe Made.

she had, I suppose, the WEaKEst head in the woRld, and In THrEE MinUteS
she was gidDy And muCH comforTEd. tHE NoiSE seemed to clotHe itself in a
VEil Of musiC, tHerE Was hopE in thE sHIniNg brightnesS thaT shone froM
the baR. the placARds that Looked LikE teXts aND wErE adVeRTisEMeNts OF
vaRious driNkS, sEemed Like JOKES to JAy.

"THere Are onLy dreams," she thOugHt veRY luCidly, "To keeP our
SoUls alIve. We aRe lucKy If we get good dreaMs. We'Ll never geT
anYtHinG bEtter."

tHrough The GlaSs betweEn the paTRioTiC POStErs that darkened the WiNDOwS
she coulD see thE MoRbID colour oF LOndOn aiR.

"aPart fRom dREaMs," thoughT this bUScOnDucting omAr KhayYaM, "thEre Is
notHIng bUt disaPpointmeNt. We eXPected too much. WE Expected
satisFAcTIOn. tHere Is nOthing in the WorlD But sEconD BeSts, BUt dreAms
arE aN ExCEllent second best. Our LaSt attiTude mUst be 'How interEsting,
but hOW VEry far frOm whAT I WAnted....'"

The speed oF time, And the hurrY Of life suDdenlY rushed uPon her agaIN.

"i must hurRy," sHe sAid. "or I SHAn'T have lived befORE I diE. I
Must hurRy."

"NO 'urry, JiNe," sAid mrs. lovE. "LEt's keep in The light FoR a BiT."

"IS thIs the ONly light LeFt uS, aFteR a delUGe of WaR?" thouGht JAy. "it
DOesN't matteR, BeCAUse oF cOuRse WAr iS hUrryiNg toO. rusHing oveR our
heads LikE The sEa OvEr drownEd sailors. But iT wIll be over iN a MinUte;
thiS NEw kind of Death must be a temporary deATh for teMpoRary sOldiErs.
What do FifTy yearS wiTHout frIends mAtter? yoU caN HArdly BREaThe BeFore
they're DONe."

SHe was DaZzleD and deaFened. She had emptied HEr gLass, and she did Not
Know WHAt StePS sHE toOk TO fiLL
 the background, on the
sh iny seat t hat l ine d t he  wal l.
To Jay this ev e ning  was an experiment, an  expe ri m entb or n ofwearine s so f 
awe ll -wo rn ro ad. S hewatched  Mrs. Love  bl ow  some of the su perfluousfro th on to the  fl oor, a nd  di d  like wis e. Di rectly she ha d put her  l i ps tot he thic k br im o f her glass she k n ew that here wasthe st uf f  o f whi chcertain dr ea ms ar e  made.Sh e h ad, I suppose, th e weakest h e adin the  w orl d , andin th re e  mi nutes
she w as g iddy andmuch c o mforted .  The no ise se eme d t o cl o th eits el f  in avei l  of  music,th er e was  hop e i n  the  sh inin g bri ghtness thatsho ne f r omthe b ar. T he p la cards  thatlooke dlike texts andwere  advertis eme nt s o fvario u s drin ks,  se emed li ke joke s  to  J a y . 
"There are only dr ea m s ,"  she tho ught v e ry  l u cidly, " to  ke ep o u r 
soul s al i ve . We are  lucky if  w e get g oo d drea ms . W e'l l nev e r ge t
anyt hing bet ter." 
Through the g l ass between t h ep a tr i otic  po sters thatdark e nedthew in dow s 
shecould  s e et he morbid colour of  L ondonair.
"Apart fromdreams," t h o u ght this  bus c on d ucting Omar Kh ayyam , "there i s 
nothing  butdisappoi ntment. W e expected  to o m uch . W e ex pected
satisf a c tion .There i s n othinginthe  wo rld  b ut second  bests,bu tdr ea msare a n  excelle nt  se co ndbest. Our la st at titu de  m u stbe 'How in t e rest in g, 
but  ho wveryfarf rom  what I  wanted.. ..' " 

Th esp eed oftime, and the  h urry of li fe  su ddenly r ushed up on her again.

"I musth urry,"she  said . "O r I shan' t h ave li ved before  I die . I
m us t h u r ry."" No  'u rr y, Jine,"s a idMrs.Lo ve."Let'skeep in the lightf ora bit."

"Isthi s th e on lyl ig h t l ef t  us , after a delugeof War?" t ho u gh t Jay. "It doe sn 't matt er, bec auseo f cours e War ishurryingto o. R u s hin g over our 
heads l ike the s e a ove r  d rowne d s ailors .But  it w ill be ove r ina minu te ;
this  newki nd of de ath must be a temporary  death  fortem porary so ldi e rs. 
What dofift y years wi tho utfrien dsm atter ? Yo u  c anh ardly  bre a the befor e 
t hey ' r edone."

She w a s d azzle d a n d deaf ened . She had emptied her glass, and  she d idnot know  w hat steps shetoo kt o  fill
 the_background, on_the
shiny seat that lined_the wall.

To_Jay_this evening_was_an experiment, an_experiment born of_weariness of
a well-worn road._She watched Mrs._Love_blow some of the superfluous
froth on to the floor, and did likewise. Directly she_had_put her_lips_to
the_thick brim of her glass_she knew that here was_the stuff_of which
certain dreams are made.

She had, I suppose,_the_weakest head in_the world, and in three minutes
she was giddy and_much comforted. The noise seemed to_clothe itself in_a
veil_of_music, there was hope_in the shining brightness that shone_from
the bar. The placards that looked_like texts and were advertisements of
various drinks,_seemed like jokes to Jay.

"There are_only dreams," she thought very_lucidly, "to_keep our
souls alive. We are_lucky if we_get good_dreams. We'll never_get
anything better."

Through the glass between the_patriotic posters that_darkened the windows
she could see the_morbid_colour of London_air.

"Apart_from_dreams," thought_this busconducting Omar_Khayyam,_"there is
nothing_but_disappointment. We expected too much. We_expected
satisfaction._There is nothing in the world but_second bests, but dreams
are_an_excellent second best. Our_last attitude must be 'How_interesting,
but how very far from what_I wanted....'"

The_speed of_time, and the hurry of life suddenly rushed upon her again.

"I_must hurry," she said. "Or I_shan't have lived before_I die._I
must_hurry."

"No 'urry, Jine,"_said_Mrs. Love._"Let's keep in the light for a_bit."

"Is this_the only light left us, after_a deluge of War?"_thought_Jay. "It
doesn't matter, because of course_War is hurrying too. Rushing over_our
heads like the sea over_drowned_sailors._But it will be over_in a minute;
this new kind of_death must be_a temporary death for temporary soldiers.
What do_fifty_years without friends matter? You can_hardly_breathe before
they're done."

She was dazzled and_deafened._She_had emptied her glass, and_she did not
know what steps she_took to fill