"Who was that?" Elgar inquired, coming forward and seating himself on the corner of the writing-table.
"Mrs. Travis. She has come to stay with friends at Hampstead. But to bed, to bed! You look like Hamlet when he came and frightened Ophelia. Have you had an evil dream?"
"That's the truth; I have."
"What about?"
"Oh, a stupid jumble." He moved the lamp-shade, so that the light fell suddenly full upon her. "Why have you made such friends all at once with Mrs. Travis?"
"How is your headache?"
"I don't know—much the same. Did she ask you to take her home?"
"Yes, she did—or suggested it, at all events."
"Why has she come to Hampstead?"
"How can I tell, dear? Put the lamp out, and let us go."