"Oh, I'll soon alter that," she said in her old brisk way. She
opened the pavilion door. The people who were standing by it
moved aside. She saw a deserted meadow, steaming and grey, and
beyond it slateroofed cottages, row beside row, climbing a
shapeless hill. Towards London the sky was yellow. "There. That's
better." She sat down by him again, and drew his hand into her
own. "Now we are all right, aren't we?"

"Where are you?"

This time she could not reply.

"What is it? Where am I going?"

"Wasn't the rector here?" said she after a silence.

"He explained heaven, and thinks that I--but--I couldn't tell a
parson; but I don't seem to have any use for any of the things
there."

"We are Christians," said Agnes shyly. "Dear love, we don't talk
about these things, but we believe them. I think that you will
get well and be as strong again as ever; but, in any case, there
is a spiritual life, and we know that some day you and I--"

"I shan't do as a spirit," he interrupted, sighing pitifully. "I
want you as I am, and it cannot be managed. The rector had to say
so. I want--I don't want to talk. I can't see you. Shut that
door."