ject was now disposed
of, for there seemed to them something unpleasant in this discussion.
But Evelyn was not ready to let it drop. Why would people never talk
about the things that mattered?

"I don't believe you care a bit!" she said, turning savagely upon Mr.
Perrott, who had sat all this time in silence.

"I? Oh, yes, I do," he answered awkwardly, but with obvious sincerity.
Evelyn's questions made him too feel uncomfortable.

"It seems so inexplicable," Evelyn continued. "Death, I mean. Why should
she be dead, and not you or I? It was only a fortnight ago that she
was here with the rest of us. What d'you believe?" she demanded of
mr. Perrott. "D'you believe that things go on, that she's still
somewhere--or d'you think it's simply a game--we crumble up to nothing
when we die? I'm positive Rachel's not dead."

Mr. Perrott would have said almost anything that Evelyn wanted him to
say, but to assert that he believed in the immortality of the soul
was not in his power. He sat silent, more deeply wrinkled than usual,
crumbling his bread.

Lest Evelyn should next ask him what he believed, Arthur, after making a
pause equivalent to a full stop, started a completely different topic.

"Supposing," he said, "a man were to write and tell you that he wanted
five pounds because he had known your grandfather, what would you do? It
was this way. My grandfather--"

"Invented a stove," said Evelyn. "I know all about that. We had one in
the conservatory to keep the plants warm."

"Didn't know I was so famous," said Arthur. "Well," he continued,
determined at all costs to spin his story out at length, "the old chap,
being about the second best inventor of his day, and a capable lawyer
too, died, as they always do, without making a will. Now Fielding, his
clerk, with how much justice I don't know, always claimed that he meant
to do something for him. The poor old boy's come down in the world
through trying inventions on his own account, lives in Penge over a
tobacconist's shop. I've been to see him there. The question is--must
I stump up or not? What does the abstract spirit of justice require,
Perrott? Remember, I didn't benefit under my grandfather's will, and
I've no way of testing the truth of the story."

"I don't know much about the abstract spirit of justice," said Susan,
smiling complacently at the others, "but I'm certain of one thing--he'll
get his five pounds!"

As Mr. Perrott proceeded to deliver an opinion, an