To-night the vague seemed on march towards the definite.

Fancy was surely moving towards fact.
With his eyes wide open Valentine gazed in the direction of Julian, sitting invisible opposite to him.

He wondered how Julian was feeling, what he was thinking.

And then he remembered that strange saying of Marr's, that thoughts could take form, materialize.

What would he give to witness that monstrous procession of embodied brain-actions trooping from the mind of his friend! He imagined them small, spare, phantom-like things, fringed with fire, as weapon against the darkness, silent-footed as spirits, moving with a level impetus, as pale ghosts treading a sea, onward to the vast world of clashing minds, to which we carelessly cast out our thoughts as a man who shoots rubbish into a cart.