"Listen to me," said Celia. "I don't believe
in your funny old chap. There isn't any such
animal."

Murphy said nothing. The self that he tried
to love was tired.

"I'll be with you at nine," said Celia, "and
I'll have it with me. If you're not there-----"

"Yes," said Murphy. "Suppose I have to
go out?"

"Good-bye."

He listened for a little to the dead line, he
dropped the receiver on the floor, he fastened
his hand back to the strut, he worked up the
chair. Slowly he felt better, astir in his mind,
in the freedom of that light and dark that did
not clash, nor alternate, nor fade nor lighten
except to their communion, as described in
section six. The rock got faster and faster,
shorter and shorter, the iridescence was gone,
the cry in the mew was gone, soon his body would
be quiet. Most things under the moon got
slower and slower and then stopped, a rock got
faster and faster and then stopped. Soon his
body would be quiet, soon he would be free.

-9-