"Mildred believes herself to be possessed by an evil spirit."
Tims turned to Milly in consternation.
"Milly, old girl! Come! Poor old Milly! I never thought you were so superstitious as all that. Besides, I know more about it than you do, and I tell you straight, you mayn't be quite such a good sort when you're in your other phase, but as to there being a devil in it—well, devil's all nonsense, but if that were so, I should like to have a devil myself, and the more the merrier."
Milly turned on her a face pale with horror and indignation. Her eyes flashed and she raised a remonstrating hand.
"Hush!" she cried. "Hush! You don't know what dreadful things you're saying. I don't know exactly what this spirit is that robs me of my life; I'm only sure it's not Me and it's not good."
"Whatever may be the matter with you, Mildred," said Lady Thomson, "it can't possibly be that. I suppose you have suffered from loss of memory again and it's upset your nerves. Why will people have nerves? I should advise you to go to Norton-Smith at once."
Milly's tears were flowing again but she managed to reply:
"I've been to Dr. Norton-Smith, Aunt Beatrice. He doesn't seem to understand."
"He doesn't want to," interjected Tims, scornfully. "You don't suppose a respectable English nerve-doctor wants to know anything about psychology? They'd be interested in the case in France, or in the United States, but they wouldn't be able to keep down Milly Number Two."
"Then what use would they be to me?" asked Milly, despairingly. "I can only trust in God; and He seems to have forsaken me."