“Be good enough to come a few steps with me.” I followed him, observing that he was deeply excited and full of expectation.
His hands trembled. “Are you a Spiritualist?” he asked quite suddenly.
“No, Knauer,” I said, laughing. “Not a bit. How did you get hold of that idea?”
“But you are a Theosophist?” “No again.” “Oh, please don’t be so reserved.
I feel with absolute certitude there is something singular about you. It is in your eyes.
I thought it certain you communed with spirits. I am not asking out of curiosity, Sinclair, no!
I am myself a seeker, you know, and I am so lonely.”
“Tell me, then!” I encouraged him. “I know absolutely nothing of ghosts.
I live in my dreams: that is what you have felt about me.
Other people live in dreams as well, but not in their own, that is the difference.”
“Yes, perhaps so,” he whispered. “Only it depends on the sort of dreams you live in.
Have you ever heard of white magic?” I had to admit my ignorance.
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