“Well. And what?”
“I was sick in bed, you know, when I had those strange dreams.”
“Yes, of course.”
“And, of course, I wasn’t wearing any dress in bed.”
“Of course not.”
“Well—now, don’t you laugh.”
“I won’t.”
“Some of the last times—after I wasn’t afraid of you any longer—I forgot.”
“You forgot what?”
“Why, I forgot to walk away in my street-dress and go home. I seemed to drop right out of the saddle and my riding-dress into my night-robe and my bed in the little room at home all at the same time, and without first going away from you.”