thing."

Marcella watched him, wide-eyed. She was completely mystified but so
full of questions that she could not find which one to ask first.

"That's what I'd have said when I was at the hospital, a young man. In
those days I dealt much more with cells and bodies than--than I do now.
Queer thing, Marcella--youngsters go for physiology mostly. When they
get older they see that there's more in psychology. I'm old now. Maybe
I'm more foolish, but I've a feeling, right down at my marrow, that I'm
wiser. I like to think that Wullie's an example of the law of
compensation and, by losing physical strength and beauty, has gained a
beautiful soul. But for the Lord's sake don't go telling anyone I--a
doctor--talked such arrant nonsense," he added with a laugh as he puffed
at his pipe.

"It seems wrong to me," said Marcella slowly. "I can't see why a
beautiful mind and body shouldn't be part of each other."

"You've never been introduced to your body yet, Marcella, nor shaken
hands with it. It's never popped up and made faces at you. When it does
you'll find folks like Wullie have a good deal to be thankful for. Your
father, for instance--"

He stopped short, coughed loudly and pulled up the horse to a sharp
trot.

"Yes. The barrel," she said gravely.

"Who's been telling you that?"