That night we were a curious party at dinner.  Never were five human beings more oddly brought into contact and conversation with each other.  We were absolutely opposed at all points; in thought, in feeling and in sentiment, I could not help remembering the wonderful network of shining lines I had seen in that first dream of mine,—­ lines which were apparently mathematically designed to meet in reciprocal unity.  The lines on this occasion between us five human beings were an almost visible tangle.  I found my best refuge in silence,—­and I listened in vague wonderment to the flow of senseless small talk poured out by Dr. Brayle, apparently for the amusement of Catherine, who on her part seemed suddenly possessed by a spirit of wilfulness and enforced gaiety which moved her to utter a great many foolish things, things which she evidently imagined were clever.  There is nothing perhaps more embarrassing than to hear a woman of mature years giving herself away by the childish vapidness of her talk, and exhibiting not only a lack of mental poise, but also utter tactlessness.  However, Catherine rattled on, and Dr. Brayle rattled with her,—­Mr. Harland threw in occasional monosyllables, but for the most part was evidently caught in a kind of dusty spider’s web of thought, and I spoke not at all unless spoken to.  Presently I met Catherine’s eyes fixed upon me with a sort of round, half-malicious curiosity.

“I think your day’s outing has done you good,” she said—­“You look wonderfully well!”

“I am well!” I answered her—­“I have been well all the time.”

“Yes, but you haven’t looked as you look to-night,” she said—­“You have quite a transformed air!”

“Transformed?”—­I echoed, smiling—­“In what way?”

Mr. Harland turned and surveyed me critically.

“Upon my word, I think Catherine is right!” he said—­“There is something different about you, though I cannot explain what it is!”

I felt the colour rising hotly to my face, but I endeavoured to appear unconcerned.

“You look,” said Dr. Brayle, with a quick glance from his narrowly set eyes—­“as if you had been through a happy experience.”

“Perhaps I have!” I answered quietly—­“It has certainly been a very happy day!” “What is your opinion of Santoris?” asked Mr. Harland, suddenly—­“You’ve spent a couple of hours alone in his company,—­you must have formed some idea.”

I replied at once, without taking thought.

“I think him quite an exceptional man,” I said—­“Good and great-hearted,—­and I fancy he must have gone through much difficult experience to make him what he is.”

“I entirely disagree with you,”—­said Dr. Brayle, quickly—­“I’ve taken his measure, and I think it’s a fairly correct one.  I believe him to be a very clever and subtle charlatan, who affects a certain profound mysticism in order to give himself undue importance—­”

There was a sudden clash.  Mr. Harland had brought his clenched fist down upon the table with a force that made the glasses ring.