'I do, indeed, sir,' he replied warmly. 'I think it probable that the thoughts of people you have never seen or heard of drop into your mind and colour it. They lodge there, or are rejected, according to your mood and the texture of your longings--what you want to be, that is. What you want, if I may say so, is emptiness, and that emptiness invites. The flying thought flits in and makes itself at home. Some people overflow with thoughts of kindness and beauty that radiate from them, of love and tenderness and desire to help. These thoughts, it may be, find no immediate object; but they are not lost. They pour loose about the world of men and women, and sooner or later find the empty heart that needs them. I believe, sir, that to sit in a chair and think such things strongly brings comfort to thousands who have little idea whence comes the sudden peace and happiness. And any one who happens to be praying for these things at the moment attracts them instantly. The comfort, the joy, the relief come---' 'What a good idea, Minks,' said Rogers gently, 'and how helpful if we all believed it. No one's life need be a failure then. Those who want love, for instance, need it, crave it, just think what an army they are!' He stared thoughtfully a moment at his little secretary. 'You might write a book about it, you know--try and make people believe it--convince them. Eh? Only, you'd have to give your proofs, you know. People want proofs.' Minks, pinker than before, hesitated a moment. He was not sure how far he ought to, indulge his private theories in words. The expression in his chief's blue eyes apparently encouraged him. 'But, indeed, Mr. Rogers, the proofs are there. Those moments of sudden strength and joy that visit a man, catching him unawares and unexplained--every solitary man and woman knows them, for every solitary man and woman in the world craves first of all--to _be_ loved. To love another, others, an impersonal Cause, is not enough. It is only half of life; to _be_ loved is the other half. If every single person--I trust, sir, I do not tire you?--was loved by some one, the happiness of life would be enormously greater than it is, for each one loved would automatically then give out from his own store, and to receive love makes one overflow with love for every one else. It is so, is it not, sir?' Rogers, an odd thrill catching him unawares, nodded. 'It is, Minks, it is,' he agreed. 'To love one person makes one half prepared to love all, and to be loved in turn may have a similar effect. It is nice to think so anyhow.' 'It is true, sir----' and Minks sat up, ready with another deluge. 'But you were saying something just now,' interrupted the other, 'about these sudden glimpses of joy and beauty that--er--come to one-- er--inexplicably. What d'ye mean by that precisely?' Minks glowed. He was being listened to, and understood by his honoured chief, too!