"Mr. Morton," she said, turning on me brusquely, "I shall not be quite sure as to your entire sanity till you have had a long sleep. You have seemed a little out of your head on some points ever since our extended acquaintance began. You have appeared impressed or oppressed with the hallucination that this day—is it to-day or to-morrow?"
"It's to-day for a little while longer," I replied, looking at my watch.
"Well, then, that to-day was 'a day of fate,' and you made me nervous on the subject—"
"Then I'm as sane as you are."
"No, I hadn't any such nonsense in my mind till you suggested it, but having once entertained the idea it haunted me."
"Yes, and it haunts you still," I said, eagerly.
"What time is it, Mr. Morton?"
"It lacks but a few moments of midnight."
"No," she said, laughingly, "I don't believe anything more will happen to-day, and as soon as the old clock downstairs strikes twelve I think the light of reason will burn again in your disordered mind. Good-night."
Instead of going, however, she hesitated, looked at me earnestly a moment, then asked: