age. He might be depended upon for the unexpected, like fate. He occasionally did it, he occasionally said it, from the passive hospitality that characterized him.
"I believe I share that impatience of yours, Mrs. Rangeley," he now remarked; "though in the present case I think we ought to leave everything to Mr. Ludlow's conscience."
"Oh, do you think that would be quite safe?" she asked with burlesque seriousness. "Well! If we must!"
Ludlow said, "Why, I think Mrs. Rangeley is right. I would much rather yield to compulsion. I don't mind telling what kept me, if I'm obliged to."
"Oh, I almost hate to have you, now!" Mrs. Rangeley bubbled back. "Your willingness, somehow, makes it awful. You may be going to boast of it!"
"No, no!" Wetmore interposed. "I don't believe it's anything to boast of."
"Now, you see, you must speak," said Mrs. Westley.
Ludlow fell back in his chair, and dreamily crumbled his bread. "I don't see how I can, exactly."
Wetmore leaned forward and looked at Ludlow round the snowy shoulder of a tall lady next him.
"Is there any particular form of words in which you like to be prompted, when you get to this point?"
"Dr. Brayton might hypnotize him," suggested the lady whose shoulder Wetmore was looking round.
The doctor answered across the table, "In these cases of the inverted or prostrated will, there is often not volition enough to coöperate with the hypnotizer. I don't believe I could do anything with Mr. Ludlow."
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