"There's another feature of her dream I want to call your attention to," he went on, "and that is the crowd as she fled from the bull. Crowds in dreams usually denote a secret. Whatever her true feelings toward Shattuck, she believes them to be locked in her own heart. Again, when she was pursued across the field she said she could feel the hot breath of the beast as he pursued her. From that I would assume at least that she knows that Shattuck loves her. Then she stumbled and almost fell. That can have but one meaning—her fear of becoming a fallen woman. But she caught herself and ran on, in the dream. She escaped."
"What of the dream about Lathrop?" I asked.
"We'll take that up later and try to interpret it. I am not sure of that one, myself. As for the others, I don't mean to say that I've put a final interpretation on them, either. Some things, such as I've told you, I know. But there are others still to be discovered. Just now the important thing is to get an understanding of Honora herself."
He took a turn up and down the floor of the laboratory.
"Honora Wilford," he said, slowly, at last, "is what the specialists would call a consciously frigid, unconsciously passionate woman."
He paused significantly, then went on: "I suppose there have been many cases where an intellectual woman has found herself attracted almost without reason toward a purely physical man. You find it in literature continually—in the caveman school of fiction, you know. As an intellectual woman, Honora may suppress her nature. But sometimes, we believe, Nature will and does assert herself."
Kennedy considered the laboratory impatiently.
"No package from Leslie yet. I hardly know what to do—unless—yes—that is the thing, now that I have had time to think this all out. I must see Mrs. Wilford again—and alone."