“Or how to interpose your own upon the lives of others—that’s what it seems to boil down to, as far as one can make out.”
Helen could not withhold a slight shudder. “The idea sounds distinctly unpleasant to me. Instinctively one shuns it.”
“It may have its ugly side,” John agreed. “But it’s reassuring to know that for the practice of this new and ticklish science, certain conditions have to be present in the mind of the subject to start with.”
“Sounds like the old-fashioned hypnotism.”
“Lien Weng claims more for it than that, much more. One’s actions can be controlled from a distance, without physical contact of any kind, simply by the massed power of thought.”
“How horrid! And how uncomfortable!”
“It is, I grant you. But we live in an uncomfortable world.”
“Isn’t the world largely what we make it?” said Helen softly.
“A week ago one would have said yes. But I’ve had a knock on the head since then. Everything is altered.” He forced a sudden laugh which jarred a little on Helen’s nerves. “But, to return to this diabolically clever old Chinaman. I’m swotting up his book, because this day fortnight—touching wood!—I shall be at Doe Hill at Rose Carburton’s, and the great Lien Weng himself is expected to be there. So you see one is likely to hear a great deal about his theory.”
“Rather too much about it, perhaps,” said Helen chaffingly. “He might consider you a fit subject for one of his experiments.”