Reed yielded to a wayward impulse left over from his boyhood.
"It generally is supposed to be connected rather intimately with germs, Mrs. Brenton," he assured her.
"By no means. And so you really do cling to the old, old fallacies? It seems too bad, and for such a man as you are. Most of us, you know, have cast them over. We now are quite convinced that disease is but another name for sin and unbelief; that the universal cure lies in the submission of one's will to the dictates of the Universal Mind."
"Really? How interesting!" Opdyke's courteous voice lacked none of the symptoms of complete conviction.
Katharine leaned a little nearer.
"Mr. Opdyke, little as you may believe it, physical disease has no real existence."
"Indeed?" Reed queried politely, quite as if the question had no personal significance for him.
"Not at all. It only shows the inherent weakness of the one who believes himself an invalid."
This time, Reed felt himself suddenly turning balky.
"Oh, I say!" he protested.