"I shall—in two hundred years," was his enigmatical reply.
We found my room, and there we had a bottle of wine and some little cakes and a quiet smoke and became much better acquainted.
It was he who first reverted to the subject of our conversation in the Blue Room.
"I am going to tell you," he said, "what I have never told another; but on the condition that if you retell it you are not to use my name. I have several years of this life ahead of me and I do not care to be pointed out as a lunatic. First let me say that I do not try to explain anything, except that I do not believe prevision to be a proper explanation. I have actually lived the experiences I shall tell you of, and that girl we saw dancing on the table tonight lived them with me; but she does not know it. If you care to, you can keep in mind the theory that there is no such thing as Time—just keep it in mind—you cannot understand it, or at least I cannot. Here goes."
