“I dreamed that I was wedded,” she responded, in a low, unnatural voice.
The next instant she seemed to realise what she had said. With a start of terror she drew herself away from me.
“Wedded? To whom?”
“I do not know,” she replied, with a queer laugh. “Of course, it was a mere dream; I saw no one.”
“But you heard voices?”
“They were so distorted as to be indistinguishable,” she replied readily.
“Are you absolutely certain that the marriage was only a dream?” I asked, looking her straight in the face.
A flash of indignant surprise passed across her features, now pale as marble; her lips were slightly parted, her large full eyes were fixed upon me steadfastly, and her fingers pressed themselves into the palms of her hands.
“I don’t understand you, Doctor!” she said at length, after a pause of the most awkward duration. “Of course I am not married?”
“I regret if you take my words as an insinuation,” I said hastily.