"I thought she would move—I thought she would move," he replied. "Her stillness was fearful—it was unexpected—I found it terrible."
"But the mystery of her is at an end."
"I know what you mean, Sir. Your ghost is nothing more than a somnambulist. I should have guessed it from the beginning—guessed either that she was asleep or that she was mad. Anyone in his senses would have hit upon this."
"I didn't. But perhaps I am not in my senses."
"Remember, Sir, you are in love!" he exclaimed, with a hard laugh.
"Who could help being in love with such a creature? Did you remark her beauty?"
"As well as I could by the light. She did not strike me as possessing the charms your enthusiasm would have suggested. To be sure I saw her at a disadvantage. But I do not admire red-haired women; or if they be red-haired, let them have at least blue eyes. Beauty should always be harmonious. And then she walks in her sleep—a qualification I for one could dispense with."
"Let us go in," I said. "The issue of this adventure has satisfied me. To-morrow I will introduce myself to her."