"Adele Rossignol laughs to-night; we shall convince her on Tuesday, Celie! Celie, I am so glad!" And her voice sank into a solemn whisper, pathetically ludicrous.

"It is not right that she should laugh! To bring people back through the gates of the spirit-world--that is wonderful." To Celia the sound of the jargon learnt from her own lips, used by herself so thoughtlessly in past times, was odious.

"For the last time," she pleaded to herself.

All her life was going to change; though no word had yet been spoken by Harry Wethermill, she was sure of it.
Just for this one last time, then, so that she might leave Mme.

Dauvray the colours of her belief, she would hold a seance at the Villa Rose.
Mme.