"Where did you learn the language then?"
"I don't know. Only I tell you——— But I haven't an atom of the sort of proof that would convince you."
"And you really," said Crump, suddenly coming round upon him and looking into his eyes; "you really believe you were eternally in a kind of glorious heaven before then?"
"I do," said the Angel.
"Pshaw!" said Crump, and lit his pipe. He sat smoking, elbow on knee, for some time, and the Angel sat and watched him. Then his face grew less troubled.
"It is just possible," he said to himself rather than to the Angel, and began another piece of silence.
"You see," he said, when that was finished, "there is such a thing as double personality.… A man sometimes forgets who he is and thinks he is some one else. Leaves home, friends, and everything, and leads a double life. There was a case in Nature only a month or so ago. The man was sometimes English and right-handed, and sometimes Welsh and left-handed. When he was English he knew no Welsh, when he was Welsh he knew no English.… H'm."
He turned suddenly on the Angel and said "Home!" He fancied he might revive in the Angel some latent memory of his lost youth. He went on: "Dadda, Pappa, Daddy, Mammy, Pappy, Father, Dad, Governor, Old Boy, Mother, dear Mother, Ma, Mumsy.… No good. What are you laughing at?"
"Nothing," said the Angel. "You surprised me a
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