The banker stared.
“I’m not sure that I understand you.”
“Suppose a man and a girl, unknown to each other, reading the same story at the same time; their phantom selves are sharing the same adventure, one that some writer has created for them. But suppose they dispense with the writer’s assistance. Suppose these phantom selves should meet and create their own adventure. Why not?”
The banker stirred uneasily in his chair.
The story-writer laughed.
“It might happen.”
“It might,” said the banker.
“I wonder,” said the story-writer, “what my wife would say if I told her of such an adventure. It would be like all my other adventures, more beautiful, perhaps, than any of the others. And yet——”
“I hope,” said the banker, frowning, “that you——”
“Go to bed,” said the story-writer, suddenly. “You’ll find the guest room on the top floor. I’m going to get to work on my South Sea story. I’ll call you up for coffee in the morning.”