As far as he could see there were people--scores of them, hundreds of them--multiplied into thousands and millions as he looked, until there was only a black cloud about him.

He staggered to his feet and a strong hand kept him from falling while his brain slowly cleared.

The millions and thousands and hundreds of people dissolved themselves into the day until only a handful was left where he had seen multitudes.

He turned his face weakly to the man beside him.
"Where did she go ?" he asked.
It was a boyish face into which his pleading eyes gazed, a face white with the strain of battle, reddened a little on one cheek with a smear of blood, and there was a startled, frightened look in it that did not come of the strife that had passed.
"Who?
What are you talking about ?" "The woman," whispered Nathaniel.

"The woman--Marion--who kissed--me--" The young fellow's hand gripped his arm in a sudden fierce clutch.
"You've been dreaming!" he exclaimed in a threatening voice.