elief she had that the
spiritualistic claim was true, but that the boy could be so horribly
excited by it. She had gone over the arguments again and again with
him, approving heartily of his suggestions as to the earlier part of
the story, and suggesting herself what seemed to her the most sensible
explanation of the final detail. Graves did sink, she said, in two
cases out of three, and Laurie was as aware of that as herself. Why in
the world should not this then be attributed to the same subconscious
mind as that which, in the hypnotic sleep--or whatever it was--had
given voice to the rest of his imaginations? Laurie had shaken his
head. Now they were at it once more. Mrs. Baxter had gone to bed half
an hour before.

"It's too wickedly grotesque," she said indignantly. "You can't
seriously believe that poor Amy's soul entered into your mind for an
hour and a half in Lady Laura's drawing-room. Why, what's purgatory,
then, or heaven? It's so utterly and ridiculously impossible that I
can't speak of it with patience."

Laurie smiled at her rather wearily and contemptuously.

"The point," he said, "is this: Which is the simplest hypothesis? You
and I both believe that the soul is somewhere; and it's natural, isn't
it, that she should want--oh! dash it all! Maggie, I think you should
remember that she was in love with me--as well as I with her," he
added.

Maggie made a tiny mental note.

"I don't deny for an instant that it's a very odd story," she
said. "But this kind of explanation is just--oh, I can't speak of
it. You allowed yourself that up to this last thing you didn't really
believe it; and now because of this coincidence the whole thing's
turned upside down. Laurie, I wish you'd be reasonable."

Laurie glanced at her.

She was sitting with her back to the curtained and shuttered window,
beyond which lay the yew-walk; and the lamplight from the tall stand
fell full upon her. She was dressed in some rich darkish material, her
breast veiled in filmy white stuff, and her round, strong arms lay,
bare to the elbow, along the arms of her chair. She was a very
pleasant wholesome sight. But her face was troubled, and her great
serene eyes were not so serene as usual. He was astonished at the
persistence with which she attacked him. Her whole personality seemed
thrown into her eyes and gestures and quick words.

"Maggie," he said, "please listen. I've told you again and again that
I'm not actually convinced. What