“Don’t worry about a thing,” she had said when they parted on Sunday. But the words had meant very little. In church, in the restaurant, in front of the bullet-riddled door, on the subway returning to the hospital, and especially on the train going back to Long Island—wherever Judy went a vague worry went with her.
“What’s the matter with me?” she wondered. “Why can’t I clear my head and think straight the way I used to?”
Judy spent a restless night, haunted by the faceless golden-haired people of her dream. Again she was looking for Clarissa. But now she had a clue. They had all dreamed about hair—Pauline, Flo, and herself. But why? If they had been hypnotized as part of a confidence game, Peter ought to know about it. The next day Judy told him.
“You’d almost think someone had taken possession of our minds. All three of us had nightmares. What do you suppose caused them?” she asked when she was visiting him in the afternoon.
Peter shook his head. He was sitting up with his shoulder in a cast and feeling very much better. She hadn’t wanted to tire him the day before. But now it was different. There were a number of things she knew she mustn’t keep from him any longer.
“Nightmares are sometimes caused by something hidden in the subconscious mind,” he replied. “I’m sure I don’t know what you have hidden there.”
“Oh, Peter! I’m not hiding it on purpose. I feel silly telling you about it after all you’ve been through,” Judy burst out impulsively. “Will you forgive me?”
“On one condition,” he told her.
Judy thought he was serious until she saw the twinkle in his eyes.
“And what is that condition?”