"What is the Blind Spot? Tell me."

"Harry," she spoke, "I cannot. It is not for you or any other
mortal. It is a secret that should never have been uncovered. It
might be the end. In the hands of the Rhamda it would certainly be
the end of mankind."

"Who is the Rhamda? Who are you? You are too beautiful to be
merely woman. Are you a spirit?"

She pressed my hand ever so slightly. "Do I feel like a spirit? I
am material as much as you are. We live, see--everything."

"But you are not of this world?"

Her eyes grew sadder; a soft longing.

"Not exactly, Harry, not exactly. It is a long story and a very
strange one. I may not tell you. It is for your own good. I am
your friend"--her eyes were moist--"I--don't you see? Oh, I would
save you!"

I did not doubt it. Somehow she was like a girl of dreams, pure as
an angel; her wistfulness only deepened her beauty. It came like a
shock at the moment. I could love this woman. She was--what was I
thinking? My guilty mind ran back to Charlotte. I had loved her
since boyhood. I would be a coward--then a wild fear. Perhaps of
jealousy.

"The Rhamda? Is he your husband? You are the same--"