“There will be nothing worth heahghing till he sums up,” said her companion and went on to ask her if she meant to attend the next lecture. Miriam perceived that unless she chose to escape forcibly, her companion had her in a close net of conversation. She glanced and saw that her face was already that of a familiar associate, no longer spurring her to trace to its source the strange impression that at first it had given her of being a forgotten face, whose sudden return, unrecognisably disguised, and yet so recognisable, filled her with a remembered sentiment of dislike.
“Rather,” she said and then, watching the opening prospect of the long series of speeches, and protected by the monotonous booming of a pessimistic male voice “I’m so awfully relieved to find that science is only half true. But I can’t see why he says that metaphysic is no practical use. It would make all the difference every moment, to know for certain that mind is more real than matter.”
“ Pahghfaitement. ”
Dr. McHibbert’s voice interrupted her, damming up the urgent flow of communications. She watched him, listening without attention.
“He’s like a marvellously intelligent bolster,” she said tonelessly “but with a heart and a soul. He certainly has a soul.”
Flattered by a soft chuckle of amusement, she added in a low murmuring man’s voice “the objectors are like candle-lit turnip ghosts,” and was rewarded by the first direct glance from the blue eyes, smiling, assuring her that she was acceptable. The ghost of the remembered face was laid. Whoever it was, if in reality it were to reappear in her life, she would be able to overcome her aversion by bold flirtation.