"Why, Peter!" said Charmian, regarding me with an anxious frown, "can't you smoke?"
"Not just now, Charmian," said I, and leaning my head in my hands, fell into a sort of coma, till, feeling her touch upon my shoulder, I started, and looked up.
"You must go to bed, Peter."
"No," said I.
"Yes, Peter."
"Very well, Charmian, yes—I will go to bed," and I rose.
"Do you feel better now, Peter?"
"Thank you, yes—much better."
"Then why do you hold on to the chair?"
"I am still a little giddy—but it will pass." And "Charmian—you forgive—"