"I dreamed that you"—dab—"picked me up in your arms and"—dab, dab—"carried me down the stairs,"—dab, dab, dab,—"and just as you were putting me into the"—dab—"into the boat, you dropped me into the sea." A furious succession of dabs, then more cologne water and another handkerchief.
"But you said something about that last night. You made me put you down on the rocks, because you said you had dreamed I dropped you. Was that another dream?"
Julius was watching her operations with a half-amused interest.
"Yes," said she, drying her face, "I dreamed it all over again, just now."
"But when did you dream it first, dear? Yesterday?"
"Oh no! Ever so long ago,—ages ago." She looked down at the flower she had put in her dress at the last minute. It was still fresh, and she arranged it a little.
"Before you knew me?" asked Julius.
"Oh yes,—that is—before"—she blushed again.
"When was it?" he asked, amused and delighted.
"It was before that evening," she said at last, "when you met me in the church. How long ago is that?"