... What could be supposed but
insanity and insanity of a very ludicrous kind?
He put on his coat and went out. From this moment his account was
confused. His mind, as he spoke to me, kept returning to that
Visitor... What happened after his Friend's departure was vague and
uncertain to him, largely because it was unimportant. He does not know
what time it was when he went out, but I gather that it must have been
about midnight. There were still people in Piccadilly.
Somewhere near the Berkeley Hotel he stopped a gentleman and a lady. He
spoke, I am sure, so politely that the man he addressed must have
supposed that he was asking for a match, or an address, or something of
the kind. Wilbraham told me that very quietly he asked the gentleman
whether he might speak to him for a moment, that he had something very
important to say.
That he would not, as a rule, dream of interfering in any man's private
affairs, but that the importance of his communication outweighed all
ordinary conventions; that he expected that the gentleman had hitherto,
as had been his own case, felt much doubt about religious questions,
but that now all doubt was, once and forever, over, that.
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