matter in one short sharp flash. The flash in this instance was "Reason is
faith, faith reason--that is all we know on earth and all we need to know."
The writer then inclosed his card and was, etc., "A Melbourne Man." I
said to Laider how very restful it was, after influenza, to read anything
that meant nothing whatsoever. Laider was inclined to take the letter
more seriously than I, and to be mildly metaphysical. I said that for me
faith and reason were two separate things, and as I am no good at
metaphysics, however mild, I offered a definite example, to coax the talk
on to ground where I should be safer.

"Palmistry, for example," I said. "Deep down in my heart I believe
in palmistry."

Laider turned in his chair.

"You believe in palmistry?"

I hesitated.

"Yes, somehow I do. Why? I haven't the slightest notion. I can
give myself all sorts of reasons for laughing it to scorn. My common
sense utterly rejects it. Of course the shape of the hand means
something, is more or less an index of character. But the idea that my
past and future are neatly mapped out on my palms--" I shrugged my
shoulders.

"You don't like that idea?" asked Laider in his gentle, rather
academic voice.

"I only say it's a grotesque idea."