"Why do you walk in your sleep?" he demanded. She stood quiescent before him; and though her features moved with inward emotion, she did not reply.
"Why do you walk in your sleep?" he again demanded. "Answer me."
"To save myself," she said, slowly, and in plaintive, aggrieved tones.
"From whom?" asked Beverton.
"From my enemy—who would kill me."
"Who is your enemy? Why would he kill you?"
"I do not know. I know I must kill him, or he will kill me."
"This is nonsense," said Beverton, sternly, warming to the problem.
"Nonsense?" Her face seemed troubled, as though the mind behind was in doubt.
"Rank nonsense. No one would harm you. Everyone loves you. What makes you think he would kill you?"