circumscribing his true meaning.

"No, it is quite possible. Perhaps his Narcissus was engaging the
sub-conscious strata of my mind while I was writing this passage. And
surely it would be strange if the undercurrents of our mind were not
reflected in our style."

"Do you mean, then, that a subtle psychologist ought to be able to read
beneath and between our lines, not only what we express, but also what
we leave unexpressed?"

"Undoubtedly."

"Even if, while we are writing, we are unconscious of our state of mind?
That would open a new field to psychology."

"Only to those that have the key, that can read the hidden symbols. It
is to me a matter-of-course that every mind-movement below or above the
threshold of consciousness must, of a necessity, leave its imprint
faintly or clearly, as the case may be, upon our activities."

"This may explain why books that seem intolerably dull to the majority,
delight the hearts of the few," Ernest interjected.

"Yes, to the few that possess the key. I distinctly remember how an
uncle of mine once laid down a discussion on higher mathematics and
blushed fearfully when his innocent wife looked over his shoulder. The
man who had written it was a roué."

"Then the seemingly most harmless books may secretly possess the power