his troubles objective and detached him from them. He could even find
something amusing now in his situation. He liked the immense scope of
the theoretical duet in which they had indulged. He felt that most of it
was entirely true--and, in some untraceable manner, absurd. There were
entertaining possibilities in the prospect of the doctor drawing him
out--he himself partly assisting and partly resisting.

He was a man of extensive reservations. His private life was in some
respects exceptionally private.

"I don't confide.... Do I even confide in myself? I imagine I do.... Is
there anything in myself that I haven't looked squarely in the face?...
How much are we going into? Even as regards facts?

"Does it really help a man--to see himself?..."

Such thoughts engaged him until he found himself in his study. His desk
and his writing table were piled high with a heavy burthen of work.
Still a little preoccupied with Dr. Martineau's exposition, he began to
handle this confusion....

At half past nine he found himself with three hours of good work behind
him. It had seemed like two. He had not worked like this for many weeks.
"This is very cheering," he said. "And unexpected. Can old Moon-face
have hypnotized me? Anyhow--... Perhaps I've only imagined I was ill....
Dinner?" He looked at his watch and was amazed at the time. "Good Lord!
I've been at it three hours. What can have happened? Funny I didn't hear
the gong."

He went downstairs and found Lady Hardy reading a magazine in a