t they supposed, now he was dead, he was
convinced of another existence. And he--or it--rapped out:--'There is
only one existence. I am not dead.' So he didn't know he was a ghost."

Gwen seemed tolerant of Voltaire, as a _pourparler_. "Perhaps," she said
thoughtfully, "he found he jammed up against the other ghosts instead of
coinciding with them.... You know Lady Katherine Stuartlaverock tried to
kiss her lover's ghost, and he gave, and she went through."

"A very interesting incident," said Adrian. "If she had been a ghost,
too, she would, as you say, have jammed. If Dr. Johnson had known that
story, he would have been more reasonable about Bishop Berkeley.... What
did he say about _him_? Why, he kicked a cask, and said if the Bishop
could do that, and not be convinced of the reality of matter, he would
be a fool, Sir. I wonder if one said 'Sir,' as often as Dr. Johnson, one
would be allowed to talk as much nonsense."

"Boswell must have made that story."

"Very likely. But Boswell made Sam Johnson. Just as we only know of the
existence of Matter through our senses, so we only know of Sam's
existence through Bozzy. I am conscious that I am becoming prosy. Let's
get back to the old ladies."

"Well--it was you that doddered away from them, to talk about Voltaire's
bogy. If they _didn't_ know they were ghosts, what then?"

"If they didn't know they were ghosts, the discovery would have been
just as excoriating as it has been here. Possibly worse, because--what
does one know? Now your full-blown disembodied spirit ... Mind you, this
is only my idea, and may be quite groundless!..."

"Now you've apologized, go on! 'Your full-blown disembodied spirit' ..."

"... may be so absorbed in the sudden and strange surprise of the
change--Browning--as to be quite unable to partake of excruciation, even
with a twin sister.... It is very disagreeable to think of, I admit.
But so is nearly every concrete form in which one clothes an imaginary
other-worldliness."

"Why is it disagreeable to think of being able to shake off one's
troubles, and forget all about them. _I_ like it."

"Well, I admit that I was beginning to say that I thought these two
venerable ladies, meeting as ghosts--not spectres you know, in which
case each would frighten t'other and both would run away--would probably
be as superior to painful memories on this side as the emancipated
butterfly is to its forgotten wiggles as a chrysalis. But it has dawned
up