"Please, please," she said, with that touch of childish intensity that
her friends thought so innocent and beautiful.
"Well, it's like this," said Laurie. "I've always rather disliked all
that kind of thing, more than I can say. It did seem to me
so--well--so feeble, don't you know; and then I'm a Catholic, you see,
and so--"
"Yes; yes?"
"Well, I've been reading Mr. Stainton Moses, and one or two other
books; and I must say that an awful lot of it seems to me still great
rubbish; and then there are any amount of frauds, aren't there, Mrs.
Stapleton, in that line?"
"Alas! Ah, yes!"
"But then I don't know what to make of some of the evidence that
remains. It seems to me that if evidence is worth anything at all,
there must be something real at the back of it all. And then, if that
is so, if it really is true that it is possible to get into actual
touch with people who are dead--I mean really and truly, so that
there's no kind of doubt about it--well, that does seem to me about
the most important thing in the world. Do you see?"
She kept her eyes on his face for an instant or two. Plainly he was
really moved; his face had gone a little white in the lamplight and
his hands were clasped tightly enough over his knee to whiten the
knuckles.
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