"
"I must admit that I'm a bit uneasy about her threats," I said,
ignoring all this. He stopped abruptly.
"What're you afraid of?"
"Mostly," I answered dryly, "I have no desire to dance with the
Shining One!"
"Listen to me, Goodwin," He took up his walk impatiently. "I've all
the love and admiration for you in the world; but this place has got
your nerve. Hereafter one Larry O'Keefe, of Ireland and the little old
U. S. A., leads this party. Nix on the tremolo stop, nix on the
superstition! I'm the works. Get me?"
"Yes, I get you!" I exclaimed testily enough. "But to use your own
phrase, kindly can the repeated references to superstition."
"Why should I?" He was almost wrathful. "You scientific people build
up whole philosophies on the basis of things you never saw, and you
scoff at people who believe in other things that you think _they_ never
saw and that don't come under what you label scientific. You talk
about paradoxes--why, your scientist, who thinks he is the most
skeptical, the most materialistic aggregation of atoms ever gathered
at the exact mathematical centre of Missouri, has more blind faith
than a dervish, and more credulity, more superstition, than a
cross-eyed smoke beating it past a country graveyard in the dark of
the moon!"
"Larry!" I cried, dazed.
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