`` Miriam was engaged , as I have told you , to a young Harvard man named Sidney Claxton . I knew she loved him very deeply . When she showed me his photograph , I liked his appearance and said so . Then I made some teasing remark about her love-letters -- just for a joke , you know . Miriam looked at me with an odd little smile and said quickly : '' ` Sidney and I never write to each other . ' '' ` Why , Miriam ! ' I exclaimed in astonishment . ` Do you mean to tell me you never hear from him at all ? ' '' ` No , I did not say that . I hear from him every day -- every hour . We do not need to write letters . There are better means of communication between two souls that are in perfect accord with each other . ' '' ` Miriam , you uncanny creature , what do you mean ? ' I asked . `` But Miriam only gave another queer smile and made no answer at all . Whatever her beliefs or theories were , she would never discuss them . `` She had a habit of dropping into abstracted reveries at any time or place . No matter where she was , this , whatever it was , would come over her . She would sit there , perhaps in the centre of a gay crowd , and gaze right out into space , not hearing or seeing a single thing that went on around her . `` I remember one day in particular ; we were sewing in my room .
I looked up and saw that Miriam 's work had dropped on her knee and she was leaning forward , her lips apart , her eyes gazing upward XXXXX an unearthly expression . ''
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