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Updated: June 19, 2025
He might have been a character out of one of Tourguenief's books, the idea of death was so constantly present with him. He once told me that the fear of it was a part of his earliest consciousness, before the time when he could have had any intellectual conception of it. It seemed to be something like the projection of an alien horror into his life a prenatal influence " "Jove!" Rulledge broke in.
"I don't know why we shouldn't sometimes, in the absence of proofs to the contrary, give such a fact the chance to evince a spiritual import. Of course it had no other import to poor Mrs. Ormond, and of course I didn't dream of suggesting a scientific significance." "I should think not!" Rulledge puffed.
The stranger heaved a sigh as of fond reminiscence, and looked round for the sympathy which in our company of bachelors he failed of; even the sympathetic Rulledge failed of the necessary experience to move him in compassionate response.
Halson smiled with radiant recognition. "Fact will always imitate fiction, if you give her time enough," I said. "Had they got back to the other picnickers?" Rulledge asked with a tense voice. "In sound, but not in sight of them. She wasn't going to bring him into camp in that state; besides she couldn't.
Minver burst into a scream, and Rulledge looked red and silly for having given himself away; but he made an excursion to the buffet outside, and returned with a sandwich with which he supported himself stolidly under Minver's derision, until Wanhope came to his relief by resuming his story, or rather his study, of Alford's strange experience. Mrs.
"And what was your conclusion from that?" Wanhope asked. "That he was lying, I should say," Rulledge replied for the stranger. Wanhope still waited, and the stranger said, "I suppose one conclusion might be that I had dreamed the whole thing myself." "Then you wish me to infer," the psychologist pursued, "that the entire incident was a figment of your sleeping brain?
"Yes, that's the point, Halson," Minver interposed. "Your story is all very well, as far as it goes; but Rulledge here has been insinuating that it was Miss Hazelwood who made the offer, and he wants you to bear him out." Rulledge winced at the outrage, but he would not stay Halson's answer even for the sake of righting himself.
It would lift a tremendous responsibility off the birds who've been expected to shoulder it heretofore if it could be introduced into real life." Rulledge fetched a long, simple-hearted sigh. "Well, it's a charming story. How well he told it!" The waiter came again, and this time signalled to Minver. "Yes," he said, as he rose. "What a pity you can't believe a word Halson says."
"Yes, it has. I did say that, and yet I suppose that though such a notion of death, say, no longer survives in the consciousness, it does survive in the unconsciousness, and that any vivid accident or illusory suggestion would have force to bring it to the surface." "I wish I knew what you were driving at," said Rulledge. "You remember Ormond, don't you?" asked Wanhope, turning suddenly to me.
"How about the poets?" asked Minver, less with the notion, perhaps, of refuting the psychologist than of bringing the literary member of our little group under the disgrace that had fallen upon him as an artist. "The poets," said I, "are as extinct as the personifications." "That's very handsome of you, Acton," said the artist. "But go on, Wanhope." "Yes, get down to business," said Rulledge.
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