it?" And, as I folded up the letter and put it away, I inadvertently
repeated the words aloud. "Do you believe in Fate?"

The fair 'Incognita' turned her head quickly at the sudden question.
"No, I don't!" she said with a smile. "Do you?"

"I--I didn't mean to ask the question!" I stammered, a little taken
aback at having begun a conversation in so unconventional a fashion.

The lady's smile became a laugh--not a mocking laugh, but the laugh
of a happy child who is perfectly at her ease. "Didn't you?" she said.
"Then it was a case of what you Doctors call 'unconscious cerebration'?"

"I am no Doctor," I replied. "Do I look so like one? Or what makes you
think it?"

She pointed to the book I had been reading, which was so lying that its
title, "Diseases of the Heart," was plainly visible.

"One needn't be a Doctor," I said, "to take an interest in medical
books. There's another class of readers, who are yet more deeply
interested--"

"You mean the Patients?" she interrupted, while a look of tender pity
gave new sweetness to her face. "But," with an evident wish to avoid a
possibly painful topic, "one needn't be either, to take an interest in
books of Science. Which contain the greatest amount of Science,
do you think, the books, or the minds?"

"Rather a profound question for a lady!" I said to myself, holding,