When she had finished, Mrs. Aiken began to say, "I suppose----" and underwent a restless pause. Then, as her hostess waited wistfully for more, she went on, "I suppose she said I ought to go back and be a dutiful wife. I'm quite sick and tired of the way people talk." "She said"--thus Madeline, a little timidly--"that she thought you had acted under a grievous misapprehension. That was what she said--'A grievous misapprehension.'" "Oh yes!--and I'm to go back and beg pardon. _I_ know.... But that reminds me...." She reined up. "Reminds you...?" Madeline paused, for her to start again. "Reminds me that I've never thanked you for the photograph." "I thought you might like it. I can't tell you how fond I am of the picture, myself. I wanted to get you to be more lenient to the poor girl. It is the loveliest face!" "Oh, I dare say. But anyhow, it was most kind of you to give it me. Let me see!--what _was_ it reminded me of the photograph? Oh, of course,--Volumnia Bax." "I was wondering why you said 'reminded.'" Now Mrs. Aiken had two or three or four or five faults, but secretiveness was not among them. In fact she said of herself that she "always outed with everything." This time, she outed with, or externalised--but we much prefer the lady's own expression--what proved of some importance in the evolution of events. "Oh, of course, it was because of the ... but it was such nonsense!" So she spoke, and was silent. The cat was still in the bag, but one paw was out, at least. Miss Upwell had her own share of inquisitiveness, and a little of someone else's. "Never mind! Do tell _me_," she said, open-eyed and receptive. The slight accent on "me" was irresistible. "It was silliness--sheer silliness!" said Mrs. Aiken. "An absurd dream I had, which made Volumnia say it was evident I was only being obstinate about Reginald, because of Science and stuff. And so going back and begging pardon reminded me. That was all." "But what had the picture to do with the dream? That's what _I_ want to know," said Madeline. "The picture was _in_ the dream," said Mrs. Aiken. "But it was such _frightful_ nonsense." "Oh, never _mind_ what nonsense it was! Do--do tell me all about it. I can't tell you what an intense interest I take in dreams. I do indeed!" "If I do, you won't repeat it to anybody. Now will you? Promise!" "Upon my word, I won't. Honour bright!" Thereon, as Mrs. Aiken really wanted to tell, but was dreadfully afraid of being thought credulous, she told the whole story of the dream, with every particular, just as she had told it to Miss Volumnia Bax. Her hearer contrived to hold in, with a great effort, until the story reached "Well--that's all! At least, all I can tell you. Wasn't it absurd?" Then her pent-up impatience found vent. "_Now_ listen to _my_ story!" she cried, so loud that her hearer gave a big start, exclaiming, "What--have _you_ got a story? Oh, do tell it! I've told you mine, you know!"