It nestled against his
shoulder with a deep sigh.
"Well, we have made a beginning," he said, turning to pour out a drink.
"It is rather interesting."
Julian was lighting a cigarette.
"Yes; it is--very." he answered.
Valentine gave him a brandy and soda; then, as if struck by a sudden
thought, asked:
"You really didn't feel anything?"
"No."
"Nor I. But then, Julian, why do we find it interesting?"
Julian looked puzzled.
"Hang it! I don't know," he answered, after an instant of reflection.
"Why do we? I wonder."
"That is what I am wondering."
He flicked the ash from his cigarette.
"But I don't come to any conclusion," he presently added, meditatively.
"We sit in the dark for an hour and a quarter, with our hands solemnly
spread out upon a table; we don't talk; the table doesn't move; we hear
no sound; we see nothing; we feel nothing that we have not felt before.
And yet we find the function interesting. This problem of sensation is
simply insoluble. I cannot work it out."
"It is awfully puzzling," said Julian. "I suppose our nerves must have
been subtly excited because the thing was an absolute novelty."
"Possibly. But, if so, we are a couple of children, mere schoolboys."
"That's rather refreshing, however undignified.
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