A spirit.
Loveday.
(Triumphantly.) There are no spirits you know—no spirits that talk to living people. The ideas are your own, your very own—
Gordon.
Perhaps the Maoris are right. This was a spirit. It couldn’t have been imagination! I heard her speak quite clearly. Her wonderful voice was like music, thrilling and deep like the songs of birds in a cool, deep glade.
Loveday.
But you were overwrought. Imagination plays tricks then.
Gordon.
Yes, I was overwrought. That recruiting business had amazingly stirred me. But what she said was so remote from my misery that I could not have imagined anything so vital, so full of hope. I felt shamed, anguished. I felt my manhood beaten in the dust, by my country, by the woman I loved.
Loveday.