David could not see what was happening in the psychometer. Outwardly he showed no emotion, except the anxiety to hold his own in this word duel with Leighton. Nevertheless, the electric current passing through him registered a series of impressions that grew in variety and intensity. Theoretically, these impressions were David's thoughts and feelings acting upon the electric finger; and thus the line of light traced upon the mirror was really a picture of his own mind. For Una the affair had lost its first element of comedy. The meaningless words, the monotonous seriousness with which they were uttered, seemed, in the beginning, a delicious bit of fooling improvised for her benefit. She delighted in the original, the unexpected, and nothing, certainly, could be more foreign to the customary betrothal night entertainment than this ponderous pairing of words between her lover and her uncle. The real purpose of the experiment had not impressed her. The talk about ghosts gave an amusing background to it; but this was afterwards spoiled, it is true, by the tedious discussion of psychological problems. Of course, Una assured herself, this experiment--or this game--was a psychological problem, and she felt certain David would solve it, whatever it might be, in the cleverest fashion. Had Una understood from the first just what Leighton intended by his proposed "ghost-hunt" she would have followed more keenly the details of this novel pastime. As it was, these details appeared to have no intelligible object in view and failed to arouse her interest until some little time had elapsed. Then she began speculating on the meaning of her uncle's disconnected words and wondering why they drew from David just the replies they did. More to amuse herself than anything else she compared the images which these words evidently aroused in David's mind with the images suggested to her. For "ship," he gave "sky"; she thought of "water." "Mountain" produced "tired"; she would have said "view." Her word for "river" was "rowing"; his "sunshine." He said "mystery" for "Africa"; she, "negroes." His words were never the same as hers, a fact indicating the wide differences in their individual experiences. More singular still, David's words were always remote, in meaning or association, from the question-words to which they were the answer; hers were quite the opposite. Why, she asked herself, did he say "anger" in response to "India"; "misery" to "temple"; "joy" to "ocean"; "lost" to "guide"; "slave" to "friend"?