There were seven tales in all—short stories—a method of expression quite strange to her, after the immense canvases of Dickens and Hugo. The doctor had sown a seed, carelessly. She mentioned, with familiar respect, Christ and Buddha and Shelley and Nietzsche and Plato. I had a hunch. ’ ‘But there is still Remenham House. "If I am the devil," observed Wild, "as some folks assert, and I myself am not unwilling to believe, you'll find that I differ from the generally-received notions of the arch-fiend, and faithfully execute the commands of those who confide their souls to my custody. ” The truth prevailed.
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