Speech failed her. She leaned out, breathlessly.
A memory returned to McTaggart. "By Jove!—the 'Torre del Mangia.' Is that really your old dream, Jill? And you said it felt like 'coming home!'" He was almost as moved as herself.
Jill drew back with dazzled eyes. Her hair, disordered by the wind, framed her excited, awe-struck face.
"Isn't it wonderful!" she cried—"my dream city ... my very own! D'you think we've lived there before, Peter? You and I—in another life?"
"I hope so. But, anyhow, it can't be half as good as this!"
He drew her gently through the door of their coupé. "There's a tunnel coming. We're nearly there. Sit down a minute. I'll roll up the rugs. You'd better get into your coat, ready."
"I shan't want it. It's so hot." Mechanically, she straightened her hat, her gray eyes still wide with wonder. She caught sight of herself in the glass. "I am untidy! Won't it be nice to have a bath and feel clean again."
A "toob"—Peter smiled to himself as the train bolted into the dark. He reached up for his hat on the peg.
"Now then!—we're coming out. Give me a kiss, quick!—There's a dear."
Sudden dazzling light again; the grind of brakes; the toot of a horn. Then a deep voice, shouting clearly: