Gwendolyn, lying flat, was murmuring to herself. "Oo-oo! How funny!" she said, "Oo-oo!"
"Now, don't let me hear another word out of you!" warned Jane.
Gwendolyn turned her head slowly from side to side. A great light of some kind was flaming against her eyes—a light shot through and through with black, whirling balls. Where did it come from?
It stayed. And grew. Her eyes widened with wonderment. A smile curved her lips.
Then suddenly she rose to a sitting posture, threw out both arms, and gave a little choking cry.
CHAPTER VIII
It was a cry of amazement. For suddenly—so suddenly that she did not have time to think how it had happened—she found herself up and dressed, and standing alone, gazing about her, in the open air!
But there were no high buildings on any side, no people passing to and fro, no motor-cars flashing by. And the grass underfoot was not the grass of a lawn, evenly cut and flowerless; it was tall, so that it brushed the hem of her dress, and blossom-dotted.
She looked up at the sky. It was not the sky of the City, distant, and marbled with streaks of smoke. It was close and clear; starless, too; and no moon hung upon it. Yet though it was night there was light everywhere—warm, glowing, roseate.