apparently indifferent about her own.

"Of course, you will find us quite different from other people, Mr.
Henley," she continued, sipping her coffee (she never seemed to drink
or eat anything heartily); "our ideas and manner of living being
quite at variance with theirs."

"Yes," Paul replied, as if he understood it perfectly. She was toying
with her cup as though not knowing exactly how to continue. Presently
she looked up at him appealingly, possessed of a sudden idea, and
added:

"And what do you think about the brain?"

Paul was astonished at the irrelevancy of the question.

"I think it is in the head," he answered, smiling, in the hope of
averting a difficulty. "That is, I think it ought to be there," he
added in a minute, "although it is doubtless missing in some cases.
Still, there can be but little dissent from the general opinion that
the skull is the proper place for it."

She looked puzzled, and Paul began to wonder if he had offended her,
but in another moment she relaxed into a smile.

"I'm sure you don't think anything of the kind," she answered, "for
if you do, you're not up to date. The latest investigations have
shown that brain matter is distributed throughout the body. No, I'm
not joking. We all think more or less with our hands and feet."