Long after the echo died away he stood there. “She has been at a siance; she has broken her promise. She has been at a siance; she has broken her promise,” sang in perpetual reiteration through his brain.
And then came the interpretation. “She has done it because I have left her. I might have told it from her letters. She has done it because she thinks I am not in earnest, that my love-making was just boyishness ...
“I knew she would never understand.”
CHAPTER XIX. — LEWISHAM’S SOLUTION.
The next morning Lewisham learnt from Lagune that his intuition was correct, that Ethel had at last succumbed to pressure and consented to attempt thought-reading. “We made a good beginning,” said Lagune, rubbing his hands. “I am sure we shall do well with her. Certainly she has powers. I have always felt it in her face. She has powers.”
“Was much ... pressure necessary?” asked Lewisham by an effort.
“We had—considerable difficulty. Considerable. But of course—as I pointed out to her—it was scarcely possible for her to continue as my typewriter unless she was disposed to take an interest in my investigations—”
“You did that?”