h any
other woman, and especially with Mary. Their points of view were
absolutely and radically different. The conflict was a conflict between
the natural and the spiritual law; or, in other words, between hard,
brutal facts and theories as impalpable as the perfume of a flower,
or the sound waves that stirred his aerophone. Moreover, he could see
clearly that Mary's interpretation of this story was simple; namely,
that he had fallen into temptation, and that the shock of his parting
from the lady concerned, followed by her sudden and violent death,
had bred illusions in his mind. In short, that he was slightly crazy;
therefore, to be well scolded, pitied, and looked after rather than
sincerely blamed. The position was scarcely heroic, or one that any man
would choose to fill; still, he felt that it had its conveniences; that,
at any rate, it must be accepted.

"All these questions are very much a matter of opinion," he said; then
added, unconsciously reflecting one of Stella's sayings, "and I daresay
that the truth is for each of us exactly what each of us imagines it to
be."

"I was always taught that the truth is the truth, quite irrespective of
our vague and often silly imaginings; the difficulty being to find out
exactly what it is."

"Perhaps," answered Morris, declining argument which is always useless
between people are are determined not to sympathise with each other's
views. "I knew that you would think my story foolish. I should never
have troubled you with it, had I not felt it to be my duty, for
naturally the telling of such a tale puts a man in a ridiculous light."

"I don't think you ridiculous, Morris; I think that you are suffering
slightly from shock, that is all. What I say is that I detest all this
spiritual hocus-pocus to which you have always had a leaning. I fear and
hate it instinctively, as some people hate cats, because I know that it
breeds mischief, and that, as I said before, people who go on trying to
see, do see, or fancy that they do. While we are in the world let the
world and its limitations be enough for us. When we go out of the world,
then the supernatural may become the natural, and cease to be hurtful
and alarming."

"Yes," said Morris, "those are very good rules. Well, Mary, I have told
you the history of this sad adventure of which the book is now closed by
death, and I can only say that I am humiliated. If anybody had said
to me six months ago that I should have to come to