Mr. Pelly found that, mysteriously, he took it as a matter of course that this should be so. "I presume," he said, "that you are alluding to the substance of the manuscript we have just read. I am scarcely in a position to form an opinion." "Why not?" said the picture. At least, she said "_perche_" and this translates "Why not?" in English. "Because I am conscious of a strong bias towards accepting it as true, occasioned by the details of your own Italian experience, which you were so kind as to give me--perhaps you will remember?--some while since--let me see?--before I went away to see that niece of mine married at Cowcester. Now, this narrative of yours--so my Reason tells me; and I may add that I have already committed myself to this opinion when awake--can only be regarded as a figment of my own imagination, based on a partial perusal of the manuscript you have just heard--that is to say, _would have_ just heard had you been objective. I am borrowing a phrase from my friend, Professor Schrudengesser. I do not see that any harm can come of my speaking plainly, as if you happen to have an independent existence you will appreciate the difficulties of the position, and if you haven't, I don't see that it matters." "Mr. Pelly," said the picture impressively, "I should like, if you will allow me, to say a serious word to you on this subject. I refer to the reality of our existence, a subject to which the most frivolous amongst us cannot afford to be indifferent. Have you never considered that the only person of whose existence we have _absolute_ certainty is _ourself_? Outside and beyond it, are we not painfully dependent on the evidence of our senses? What is our dearest friend to us but a series of impressions on our sight, touch, and hearing, _plus_ the conclusion we draw--possibly unsound--that what we touch is also what we see, and that what we hear proceeds from both? Have you attached due weight to...?" Mr. Pelly interrupted the voice. "You will excuse me," he said, "but in view of the fact that I may wake at any moment, is it not rather a tempting of Providence to discuss abstract metaphysical questions? No one would be more interested than myself in such discussions under circumstances of guaranteed continuity. But..." Mr. Pelly paused, and the voice laughed. The picture itself remained unmoved. "Circumstances of guaranteed continuity," it repeated mockingly. "When have you ever had a guarantee of continuity, and from whom? If you were suddenly to find yourself extinct, at any moment, could you logically--could you reasonably--express surprise?--you who had actually passed through an infinity of nonentity before you, at any rate, became a member of Society! Why should not your nonentity come back again? What has been, may be."