"Is it--oh, Reginald!--is it reincarnation, do you think?" she questioned in her misery.
"Ah, something of that nature, I fear, Caroline," I admitted, reluctantly. "It's a new one on me, anyway. But it can't last. Don't be impatient, my dear. It'll soon pass off."
But even as I spoke I knew that I was using my wife's sweet, soft voice for deception. Whatever it was, it had come to stay--for a time at least.
"I think, Reggie, dear, that, if you don't mind, I'll have breakfast in bed."
Like a flash, Caroline's remark revealed to me the frightful problems that would crop up constantly from our present plight. Number one presented itself instantly; I had an important engagement at my office at 9:30. If Caroline remained in bed I couldn't keep it. Then it came to me that if she rose and dressed I should be in no better case. Dressed? She would be obliged to put on my clothes, anyway! What other alternative was there?
"I think, Caroline, dear," I suggested, gently, "that we'd better wait awhile before we make our plans. It may go away suddenly. A change may take place at any moment."
"It came in our sleep, and it'll go in our sleep," said my wife, confidently, and I was struck by the gruffness that a firm conviction gave to my voice. I had never noticed it when I had been in full and free possession thereof.
"If we could only go to sleep," I sighed, glancing again at my trousers and suppressing a harsh expletive that arose to my beautiful lips.
"I couldn't sleep, Reginald. I'm sure of that. I feel a horror of sleep, but I need something. Perhaps--oh, Reggie, it can't be that!--but I can't help thinking that I want a--a--cocktail."
Caroline hid her borrowed face in my great, clumsy hands.