"
"Isn't that what people say who preach New Thought, or whatever they
call it?" asked Stephen. "A lot of women I know had rather a craze about
that two or three years ago. They went to lectures given by an American
man they raved over--said he was 'too fascinating.' And they used their
'science' to win at bridge. I don't know whether it worked or not."
"I never heard any one talk of New Thought," said Victoria. "I've just
had my own thoughts about everything. The attic at school was a lovely
place to think thoughts in. Wonderful ones always came to me, if I
called to them--thoughts all glittering--like angels. They seemed to
bring me new ideas about things I'd been born knowing--beautiful things,
which I feel somehow have been handed down to me--in my blood."
"Why, that's the way my friends used to talk about 'waking their
race-consciousness.' But it only led to bridge, with them."
"Well, it's led me from Potterston here," said Victoria, "and it will
lead me on to the end, wherever that may be, I'm sure. Perhaps it will
lead me far, far off, into that mysterious golden silence, where in
dreams I often see Saidee watching for me: the strangest dream-place,
and I've no idea where it is! But I shall find out, if she is really
there."
"What supreme confidence you have in your star!" Stephen exclaimed,
admiringly, and half enviously.
"Of course. Haven't you, in yours?"
"I have no star.
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