Stopping suddenly, she exclaimed:
“Doctor Brill, it couldn’t be possible that the chicken with the long neck, that I saw in my dream, was my old beau!”
“It begins to look very much like it,” he smiled. “Have you seen him lately?”
“Not for months.”
“And before then?”
Little by little the whole story came out. They had kept up their acquaintance after the school days were long gone. Three times he had asked her to marry him, but each time she had refused, because although she “liked” him she was not at all sure that she “loved” him. At last she had decided that the next time he proposed she would accept. But he had not proposed again. And shortly before she became ill she had heard that he was paying attentions to another young lady.
“I take it,” interposed Doctor Brill, “that he is not so well off as he might be, and that this had something to do with your refusing to marry him.”
“What makes you say that?”
“In your dream I note that you state: ‘Every time I made a move there was a wall in the way; it looked like a street full of walls.’ A street full of walls might easily signify Wall Street—hence money. That has been the real obstacle, has it not?”
She confessed that he was right.