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FORE:So far, Aristotle regards the soul as a function, or energy, or perfection of the body, from which it can no more be separated than vision from the eye. It is otherwise with the part of mind which he calls Nous, or Reason��the faculty which takes cognisance of abstract ideas or the pure forms of things. This corresponds, in the microcosm, to the eternal Nous of the macrocosm, and, like it, is absolutely immaterial, not depending for its activity on the exercise of any bodily organ. There is, however, a general analogy between sensation and thought considered as processes of cognition. Previous to experience, the Nous is no thought in particular, but merely a possibility of thinking, like a smooth wax tablet waiting to be written on. It is determined to some particular idea by contact with the objective forms of things, and in this determination is raised from power to actuality. The law of moderation, however, does not apply to thought. Excessive stimulation is first injurious and then destructive to the organs of sense, but we cannot have too much of an idea; the more intense it is the better are we able to conceive all the367 ideas that come under it, just because ideation is an incorporeal process. And there seems to be this further distinction between sensation and thought, that the latter is much more completely identified with its object than the former; it is in the very act of imprinting themselves on the Nous that the forms of things become perfectly detached from matter, and so attain their final realisation. It is only in our consciousness that the eternal ideas of transient phenomena become conscious of themselves. Such, we take it, is the true interpretation of Aristotle��s famous distinction between an active and a passive Nous. The one, he tells us, makes whatever the other is made. The active Nous is like light raising colours from possibility to actuality. It is eternal, but we have no remembrance of its past existence, because the passive Nous, without which it can think nothing, is perishable.Lawrence puffed his cigarette in huge enjoyment.

FORE:Leona Lalage had scarcely returned to her own room when Hetty came out of hers. She had heard the loud knocking at the door, and had instantly guessed who it was. But the strange silence that followed the answering of that summons puzzled her. The whole house was wonderfully still now, a silence that seemed to tell of dark mysteries. She looked over into the hall below. She could not remain here any longer. She would go down into the library and wait there. Those two people were quite capable of murdering her lover as well as Maitrank. She opened the library door, and to her great surprise Bruce stood before her."Somebody in the house," the sergeant explained sketchily. "Caretaker or something of that kind, or so we imagined. Call on the telephone."