“Oh, will it?” In a still small voice.
“Miss Gwendoline asked me if you’d showed signs before coming down here?” piped up Dickie. And again Bob breathed deep. Then his thoughts floated away. Dickie was too insignificant to bother with.
“Hallucinations!” observed the commodore briskly. “Fits you to a T!”
Bob didn’t answer. He was trying to think if she—Miss Gwendoline—hadn’t said something about hallucinations?
“You simply imagined all those things you confided to Mrs. Dan. You didn’t mean to tell what wasn’t so, but you couldn’t help yourself. You really believed it all, at the time. You are irresponsible.”
“Maybe you’ll tell me next there isn’t any Gee-gee,” said Bob. “Also, that Miss Gid-up is but an empty coinage of the brain?”
“No, we’ll do better than that. The existence of a Gee-gee accounts, in part, for your condition. First stage, Gee-gee on the brain; then, brain-storm! Gee-gee is part of your obsession!”
“You talk, think and dream of Gee-gee,” interposed Clarence. “We’ve got it all doped out. You are madly jealous. You imagine every man is in love with her. You even attribute to Dan here, ulterior motives.”
“I mentioned to Miss Gerald, privately, that a certain very fascinating but nameless young show-girl might be your trouble,” said Dickie.
Again Bob did a few deep-breathing exercises, and again he managed to conquer himself.