I laughed.

“Granted!” I said—­“If it is opinionated to be honest I plead guilty!  Miss Harland is as well as you or I,—­she’s only morbid.”

“True!—­but morbidness is a form of illness,—­a malady of the nerves—­”

I laughed again, much to his visible annoyance.

“Curable by outward applications of electricity?” I queried—­“When the mischief is in the mind?  But there!—­I mustn’t interfere, I suppose!  Nevertheless you keep Miss Harland ill when she might be quite well.”

A disagreeable line furrowed the corners of his mouth.

“You think so?  Among your many accomplishments do you count the art of medicine?”

I met his shifty brown eyes, and he dropped them quickly.

“I know nothing about it,”—­I answered—­“Except this—­that the cure of any mind trouble must come from within—­not from without.  And I’m not a Christian Scientist either?”

He smiled cynically.  “Really not?  I should have thought you were!”

“You would make a grave error if you thought so,” I responded, curtly.

A keen and watchful interest flashed over his dark face.

“I should very much like to know what your theories are”—­he said, suddenly—­“You interest me greatly.”

“I’m sure I do!” I answered, smiling.

He looked me up and down for a moment in perplexity—­then shrugged his shoulders.

“You are a strange creature!” he said—­“I cannot make you out.  If I were asked to give a ‘professional’ opinion of you I should say you were very neurotic and highly-strung, and given over to self-delusions.”

“Thanks!”—­and I made him a demure little curtsy.  “I look it, don’t I?”

“No—­you don’t look it; but looks are deceptive.”

“There I agree with you,”—­I said—­“But one has to go by them sometimes.  If I am ‘neurotic,’ my looks do not pity me, and my condition of health leaves nothing to desire.”

His brows met in a slight frown.  He glanced at his watch.

“I must go,”—­he said—­“Miss Harland will be waiting.”

“And the electricity will get cold!” I added, gaily.  “See if you can feel my ‘neurotic’ pulse!”

He took the hand I extended—­and remained quite still.  Conscious of the secret force I had within myself I resolved to try if I could use it upon him in such a way as to keep him a prisoner till I chose to let him go.  I watched him till his eyes began to look vague and a kind of fixity settled on his features,—­he was perfectly unconscious that I held him at my pleasure,—­and presently, satisfied with my experiment, I relaxed the spell and withdrew my hand.

“Quite regular, isn’t it?” I said, carelessly.

He started as if roused from a sleep, but replied quickly: 

“Yes—­oh yes—­perfectly!—­I had almost forgotten what I was doing.  I was thinking of something else.  Miss Harland—­”

“Yes, Miss Harland is ready for you by this time”—­and I smiled.  “You must tell her I detained you.”