Audrey laughed.
“That’s lack of experience, my dear. Though it’s true that the more expensive a night one has, the more economical one feels in the morning—especially, I fancy, when it’s a woman in the case. Though I’ve known men who suffered. But you did have a good time—didn’t you?”
“Don’t ask me. I suppose I did—but—at present—I’m not quite sure. It was a little nightmarey.”
Audrey was still. Although my eyes were closed I was oddly conscious that hers were searching my face with a curious scrutiny. And, somehow, I seemed to know that what she saw there made her sorry, but whether for herself or for me I could not tell.
“I fancy that everyone must have been a wee bit mad—yesterday.”
There was an inflection in her voice which caused me to look up.
“Mad? Yes; I think they must have been!”
“Some of Puck’s magic powder must have got into their eyes, so that they saw things as they did in that wood near Athens. Perhaps they’ll have got it out to-day.”
“Perhaps.”
Again she looked at me, and, as I was looking at her, this time I saw that there was trouble in her eyes, trouble which seemed to grow as she looked. Stooping, she kissed me, saying something which I did not understand at all.