"Ah, don't——"
"No. Good-bye."
He stood up. He seemed very tall and broken, resting one hand heavily on the little rustic table.
"Basil," she said thoughtfully, "did you come into my room last night?"
"Your room? Your bedroom?"
"Yes, long after I had left you?"
"No dear. Of course not! Why?"
"I had a queer feeling that someone was in the room."
He stumbled over his words. "I—I dreamt of you last night."
Her mouth drooped; he saw the quiver of her nostril. "Oh—don't dream of me any more," she said. "Good-bye."