xistence that they never know anything about it. Sometimes they catch
dim glimpses of it, and once in awhile, in one person out of many
millions, some nervous shock will break the bonds between the two
and the submerged consciousness will rise to the surface and take
possession. That is probably what happened in your dreams, with,
doubtless, some shock at the beginning to make it possible. Did these
dreams occur frequently?"

"I don't think they did at first. But I was too young and thoughtless
to take any account of them. I remember that they occurred once in
a while in my teens. Afterwards they became more frequent and the
impression they made upon me was much stronger. Then that impression
began to remain with me after I was awake, more as a memory at first,
an unusually vivid remembrance of a dream state. Then it grew so
strong that for an hour or two after waking it would dominate me and
I could feel myself almost swaying back into that other person I had
been while I was asleep and dreaming. I thought it would be a curious
and interesting experience if I could slip over into this other person
sometimes while I was awake. You know you get rather tired sometimes
of your own individuality."

He stopped and smiled, then went on: "It has never been my habit to
pass by any interesting or pleasurable experience that came my way."

The smile became almost a leer and then stiffened into a sneering
defiance as his gaze met the clear gray eyes of the physician,
impersonal, professional, unresponding. The doctor's chin rested upon
his locked fingers and his eyes were fastened upon the other's face.
Brand did not know how much of his soul that searching gaze was
gradually forcing him to reveal.

"I have always thought," he went on, as if moved by an impulse of
self-defense, the half-leering, half-sneering smile still on his face,
"that a man has the right to sample all the pleasures that come within
his reach. It's the only way by which he can come into full knowledge
of himself, and so reach his highest development. And that, I take it,
is one of the things a man lives for. Therefore he owes it to himself
to let nothing pass by him untried."

Brand ceased speaking and waited as if he expected some response.
"Don't you agree with me?" he said, after a moment of silence, in his
old, suave and deferent manner.

"Eh? Agree with you? Oh, my opinion on that matter is of no
consequence just now. You were speaking about this o