“I don’t believe in the dead! Does that help you at all? Any prayers or thoughts which you have used here, with the intent of helping a fellow creature, can hardly be limited by the one sense of sight. I believe in prayers for the living.”
The distress in Katrine’s eyes changed into a soft radiance.
“Oh, I am glad you said that, I’m glad!” she cried. “That smooths out everything. I’m so grateful to you. It would be a comfort to me to feel I could go on—”
“Helping that poor soul? Of course it would. Send out your sweet thoughts, then they’ll reach him right enough, but for pity’s sake don’t cry! That doesn’t help him, and it seriously disturbs another man, on a lower plane. As a pure religious duty now, don’t you think you could range these lilies against the wall?”
“I’ll—try!” Katrine answered between a sob and a laugh. Veritably that puzzle was a godsend this morning, claiming her interest in absurd disproportion. There were periods of fruitless searchings when ennui and impatience hovered at hand, but inevitably at that very moment success intervened, and brought with it a renewal of zest.
Half a dozen blocks of substantial sizes were strewn about the table, but so far each remained separate and distinct, and seemed to have no connection with the other. Katrine, eyeing them impatiently, was once more inclined to regret her earlier decision.
“I wonder if this is really the best way! We don’t seem to get on. The background has to be fitted in some time, and it might be better to get it over. Slow and sure wins the race!”
Bedford lifted a jagged fragment in his hand, examined it carefully, and bent over the table as if looking for a place into which it might fit.
“The theory,” he said thoughtfully, “is correct. Like many theories! But the prizes of life are not for the prudent. If we worked out our problems step by step, you and I, we might avoid some difficulties; incidentally, also, we should miss something else!” He tilted his head, lifting narrowed eyes. “The thrill!” he said deeply. “We should miss the thrill.”
The unexpectedness of the word, the tone in which it was uttered, the expression on the face so close to her own, smote Katrine with the force of a blow. Literally she could not speak; her heart seemed to stop beating as she waited for his next word.