"Do tell me," she said, "why did you say to Duncan that his wife only thought she was ill?" The convinced happiness of his brown eyes looked at her a moment before he answered. "Doesn't it come somewhere in Shakespeare?" he said. "'There's nothing but thinking makes it so?' Or words to the same purpose?" "Yes, but if we take that literally," said Maud, "we must conclude that if she could only think she was well, poor soul, she would be. It is hard to think that when you happen to have typhoid." The brown eyes grew graver, but their happiness, as well as their gravity, seemed to deepen. "Certainly, it is hard," he said. "Indeed, it is impossible, unless you can think right. But when you can do that, all the rest follows." * * * * * Maud suddenly felt slightly antagonistic to him. She remembered the few words she had had with Thurso last night about people who say they are always well, because they think they are, and his conclusion that they must be fools. She had tacitly agreed with him then, and was a little vexed with Mr. Cochrane because, honestly, he did not seem to be a fool. "Have you ever had toothache?" she asked briskly. "Never. And if I had, I shouldn't. Sounds nonsense, doesn't it? But it just expresses the truth." Then the name she had been unable to remember last night came back to her. "Ah, you are a Christian Scientist!" she said. "You think all pain and illness is unreal." He laughed. "I know it," he said. "Now, I am sure you want to get on with your fishing. So there's your rod, and please keep this gaff. You are far more likely to hook another salmon in these upper pools than I am down below." He had changed the subject with such undisguised abruptness that she could not help remarking on it. Yet, sudden as it had been, there was no hint of ill-breeding or rudeness about it. He merely spoke quite courteously of something else. "Do you always change the subject as quickly as that?" she asked, smiling. "Always, if I think I may be led into a discussion about Christian Science with strangers, who---- Pray don't think me rude, Lady Maud, but one can't talk about the subject which means more to one than the whole world with people who ask questions about it out of a sort of--well, derisive curiosity. Also, I don't proselytise. I think there are better ways of making the truth known." The words were extremely direct, but again no hint of rudeness or want of courtesy was ever so faintly suggested, and though Maud still felt antagonistic, she knew that the most sensitive person in the world could not have found offence in them, so perfectly friendly and good-natured was his tone. He made this very plain statement without the least touch of resentment himself or fear of arousing it. And she, generous and fair-minded herself, gave in at once.