“I come at this hour,” he said slowly, “because the view does not attract me so much at any other time. It is only when the twilight falls that one can see—properly.” The newcomer took his pipe from his mouth. “You must have marvelous eyesight, my young friend,” he remarked. “To me everything seems blurred and uncertain.” “You don’t understand!” said the boy impatiently. “I do not come here to see the things that anyone can see at any hour of the day. There is nothing satisfying in that. I come here to look down and see the things which do not really exist. It is easy enough when one is alone,” he added, a little pointedly. The newcomer laughed softly—there was more banter than humor in his mirth. “So my company displeases you,” he remarked. “Do you know that I have the right to tell you to get up, and never to pass through that gate again?” The boy shrugged his shoulders.