"I dislike it all," she said. "I'm too ordinary, I suppose, my--my subconscious self doesn't act, you would say. But what proof is there that there is such a thing as the subconscious self? Why should I suppose that there is anything of the sort? I have no reason to suppose it. It is all nonsense." Archie laughed. "My dear Jessie," he said, "you are arguing not with me but with yourself. You have an uneasy conviction that I am right." "Not a bit," she said. "I want a proof." Archie rubbed his hand over his head. "I wonder how I can give it you most easily," he said. "Of course there are lots of ways, though it is quite a long time since I have practised any of them." He thought for a moment. "Well, here's one," he said. "The subconscious self--to talk more nonsense, as you say--is practically unlimited by the material laws of the world. It is a sort of X-ray, a sort of wireless... I can set my subconscious self to work, and I will, to prove its existence to you." His voice sank a little, and Jessie saw that his eyes were fixed on a bright speck of sunlight that gleamed on the table-cloth. A sudden ridiculous terror seized her. "Don't, Archie," she said. "It's such nonsense." "It isn't nonsense," said he quietly, "and you mustn't be such a baby. There's nothing to be frightened at." As he spoke he took his eyes off the bright speck at which he had been staring, and looked at her with his blue, dancing glance. "What are you going to do?" she said. "Whatever you like. Let me look at that bright spot there, while you sit quiet, for two minutes, and I'll tell you anything you choose. Think of something, anything will do, and I'll tell you what you're thinking about." "Oh, just thought-reading," said she. "_Just_ thought-reading! But what is thought-reading? If you can remember what you thought about when you went up to your bedroom to sleep after lunch to-day, for instance, I'll tell you that. Or, there is Harry writing his history lecture for next term at this moment. I'll tell you the words he is writing. At least I think I shall be able to. But I'm out of practice. I have not cultivated the particular mood for years. But I had it when I was a child, and I expect I can get back into it." Jessie felt an extreme curiosity about this. She had, even as Archie had said, an uneasy conviction that he was right, and for her peace of mind she longed to have that conviction shattered. In her reasonable self she did not believe that Archie could possibly tell her what Harry was writing, but behind that reasonable self sat something unreasonable which wanted to be convinced that this was all nonsense. "But you won't have a fit or anything, will you?" she asked. "No. Pour boiling tea over me if I do, and I shall come to myself." "But what are you going to do?"