Explore "The Other Sense" by J.S. Fletcher on Textopian. Read with annotations and highlights.
Oct. _27th_.--I have been very happy here so far--much happier, I believe--nay, am sure, than I have ever been since I left Alt-na-Shiel. Life is very pleasant in this house, and with Dr. Schreiber. He is very different, I think, to all other men I have ever met. I have been with him frequently to visit some of his poorer patients--it seemed to me that he _laughs_ them out of their complaints. I do not mean that he laughs _at_ them, but that his cheeriness is infectious, and lifts them out of themselves. He is certainly a great man--a big _human_.
Last night, after dinner, he and I were playing billiards, and somehow--I do not know how--we reached the question of what those other people call my delusion. We sat down--this was the first time I had ever spoken of it to him--and I told him of some things which I had seen--especially of the ghost (if it is a ghost) of the parish clerk of Ardnashonach. Instead of looking as if he could scarcely believe his ears (as Major Kennedy looks), or shaking his head (as Dr. Wilkinson did), he listened most intently, and asked me a lot of questions. Not questions about myself, which is what I detest, but sensible questions.