“He told us another day that views are really crowds — crowds of trees and houses and hills — and are bound to resemble each other, like human crowds — and that the power they have over us is sometimes supernatural, for the same reason.”

Lucy's lips parted.

“For a crowd is more than the people who make it up. Something gets added to it — no one knows how — just as something has got added to those hills.”

He pointed with his racquet to the South Downs.

“What a splendid idea!” she murmured. “I shall enjoy hearing your father talk again. I'm so sorry he's not so well.”

“No, he isn't well.”