reaming.'"

"I thought it was 'drinking.'"

"It certainly is 'dreaming' plain enough!"

"What do you make of it? Don't read it all through. Tell me the upshot."

"I don't mind reading it. But I'll tell it short, as you're in a hurry.
Adrian dropped asleep on the sofa, and woke with a start,
saying:--'What's become of Septimius Severus on the bookshelf?' It was a
bust, it seems. 'Re said:--'How did you know it had been moved?' and he
seemed quite puzzled and said:--'I can't tell. I forgot I was blind, and
saw the whole room.' Then 'Re said, he must have been dreaming. 'But,'
said he, 'you say it _has_ been moved.' So what does 'Re do but say he
_must_ have heard somehow that it was moved, _because_ it was impossible
that he should have been able to see only just that much and no more....
Oh dear!" said Gwen, breaking off suddenly. "What a pleasure people do
seem to take in being silly!"

Sir Coupland proceeded to show deference to correct form. "It is far
more likely," said he, "that Mr. Torrens had heard someone say the bust
was moved, and had forgotten it till he woke up out of a dream, than
that he should have a sudden flash of vision." A more cautious method
than Irene's, of assuming the point at issue.

Gwen paid no attention to this, putting it aside to apologize to Irene.
"However, 'Re had the sense to write straight to you about it. I'll say
that for her." Then she read the letter again while Sir Coupland spun
out his cup of coffee. She was still dwelling on it when he looked at
his watch suddenly and said: "I must be off. Consider Prince
Hohenschlangen's necrosis!" Then said Gwen, pinning him to truth with
the splendour of her eyes:--"You are perfectly and absolutely certain,
Dr. Merridew, that a momentary gleam of true vision in such a case would
be _impossible_?"

"I never said _that_," said Sir Coupland.

"What _did_ you say?" said Gwen.

"As improbable as you please, short of impossible. Now I'm off.
Impossible's a long word, you know, and very hard to spell." Sir
Coupland went off in a hurry, leaving Irene's letter in Gwen's
possession, which was dishonourable; because he had really read the
injunction it contained, on no account to show it to Gwen in case she
should build false hopes on it. But then Gwen had not read this passage
aloud to him, so he did not know it officially.

Lunch was the next conclave of the small household, and although Mr.
Pellew was there--it was extraordinary how seldom