“It was a large, smooth-rolling coach, most like a commodious omnibus, and full of a most jovial company.  I sat half-way along one of the two lengthy seats, and opposite me was a red-faced man, with large shiny eyes and greasy hair.  On one side of me was a jolly country girl of about twenty-five, on the other a thin, dry-looking man.  There was an incessant din of conversation and singing; we were leaning towards one another, and saying what jolly fellows we were, we should never part.  A bottle was always going round, and every now and then the postilion blew his horn; six horses clattered in front, the dust rolled off behind.  I remember myself in a strange state of excitement.

“It was afternoon when I began to think.  Actually, at that time I knew I had no memory, but I dared not face the fact.  I strove to evade thought by being one of the company.  How my cheeks burned as I laughed and talked!  I remember pulling a fat man by the sleeve, and whispering in his ear some secret that made us roll back and collapse in laughter.  And the coach sped on.

“It seemed an eternal afternoon—­chiefly because it filled up all the past for me.  I could remember nought before it.

“At last, however, a grand sunset ran scarlet over the whole sky—­we still jested, and it was at this time that a little dwarf-like man in a corner appeared fearful to me; there was a fiery reflection of the sunset in his eyes.  I saw him once so, I dared not look again.  Thoughts were fighting me.  My jollity was losing ground.  I foresaw that in a short time I should cease to belong to the company, that I should belong utterly to myself, and there would be no escaping from my thoughts.  Then at last we passed out of the sunlit country into a place of grey light.  It was really natural; the sunset was gone, here was grey twilight.  But my disordered mind expected I know not what, either eternal sunset or sudden black night; I cannot say now.  I was struck with terror.  And standing still with myself, I felt absolutely confounded by the self-question I asked.

“‘Where are we going?’

“Till that moment I had not realised that ignorance of the Past meant ignorance of the Future.  I asked where we were going.  The laughter and conversation increased.  I was answered, but in a jargon I found quite incomprehensible.  Another question.

“‘Who under heaven were these people?’

“I stood up and staggered.  I must have appeared drunk, for I was greeted with howls and cheers, an inferno of cries and laughter; and the red-faced man stood up also and clung to me, and brought his queer face close up to mine.  The girl also clung to me.  Then it occurred to me, this was the crisis of a nightmare; in a moment these phantasmal restraints would burst, and I should find myself peacefully—­where?

“I remember what seemed a prolonged struggle among laughter and sighs and affectionate clingings, and I got at last out at the door and down the steps.  I found myself weakly turning about on my heels on an excessively dusty road.  Just ahead of me the coach rolled off into the future stretches of the road, the postilion wound his horn, and the clouds of dust rose up behind the wheels.