"Then try to believe. Let us begin."
They began. The lady was preternaturally solemn, but the gentleman was tortured by a desire to smile. He felt that the lady might resent his laughter. Under these circumstances the ten minutes' stare was trying. Mrs. Pratt had sweet blue eyes, which were large and round--the sort of eyes which the average man would not object to stare at for ten minutes or even longer. As the appointed space of time drew to a conclusion even Mr. Pownceby became reconciled to his lot. He placed his left thumb on the lady's forehead above her nose.
"Is that level with my eyebrows?" she inquired. He reproved her.
"I don't think you ought to speak. You destroy the connection."
Mrs. Pratt was dumb. Mr. Pownceby proceeded in accordance with the directions contained in the pamphlet. He rested the tips of his fingers on the top of the lady's head. He took hold of her left hand with his right. He applied the "inside part" of his thumb to the centre of her palm. He said to her:
"Look into my eyes."
She looked into his eyes, her head inclined a little backwards. This part of the proceedings was, so far as the gentleman was concerned, on the whole agreeable. He gazed fixedly into her pretty eyes. Then he added, in a "loud, clear, firm tone of voice":
"Close your eyes quite tight."
She closed her eyes. There was a pause for a few seconds. Remembering the instructions contained in the pamphlet, he proceeded another step:
"You cannot open your eyes," he said. "Your eyes are fast, quite fast."