An ordinary day these signs, owing
to their generous profusion, might have called for no remark. They
would, probably, have drawn no attention to themselves, merely lying
about unnoticed, undiscovered because familiar. But this was not an
ordinary day. It was unused, unspoilt and unrecorded. It was the Some
Day of humanity's long dream--an Extra Day. Time could not carry it
away; it could not end; all it contained was of eternity. The great
hider at the heart of it was real. These signs--deep, tender, kind and
beautiful--were part of him, and in knowing, recognising them, they
knew and recognised him too. They drew near, that is, brushed up
closer, to his hiding-place from which _he_ saw them. They approached
within knowing distance of a Reality that each in his or her
particular way had always yearned for. They held--oh, distinkly held--
that they were winning. They won the marvellous game as soon as it
began. They never had a doubt about the end.
But their supreme, superb discovery was this: They had always secretly
longed to find the elusive hider; they now realised that _he_--wanted
them to find him, and that from his hiding-place he saw them easily.
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