A MAN WALKING. One man, on a stretch of road three miles long cut slantwise every ten yards by the shadow of a tree trunk, striding unhurriedly from one shadow to the next. As it was almost noon, with the sun nearly at its highest point, a short, ridiculously squat shadowhis own-slid in front of him.

Looking out, as she had done, I tried to imagine what it was she had felt; the darkness did really after awhile possess you, with the hypnotic rash of the surf, and there was a feeling almost of knowing, or being on the edge of knowing, what had been hidden from you, a deceptive implication, and later, when I thought about it, I realized it was just a feeling, and that whatever it was that was on the verge of being understood disappeared as soon as you turned away form the window and face again the room you were in, with the furniture someone else had put there, and the rather ugly hard somewhat obscene chaise lounge occupying the middle of the floor.