Though it pierced him, Colville could not help admiring the neatness of this thrust. "I didn't know you were so ironical, Mrs. Bowen." "Ironical? Not at all." "Ah! I see I'm not forgiven." "I'm sure I don't know what you mean." Imogene and Effie came in. The child was a little pale, and willingly let him take her on his knee, and lay her languid head on his shoulder. The girl had not aged overnight like himself and Mrs. Bowen; she looked as fresh and strong as yesterday. "Miss Graham," said Colville, "if a person to whom you had done a deadly wrong insisted that you hadn't done any wrong at all, should you consider yourself forgiven?" "It would depend upon the person," said the girl, with innocent liveliness, recognising the extravagance in his tone. "Yes," he said, with an affected pensiveness, "so very much depends upon the person in such a case." Mrs. Bowen rose. "Excuse me a moment; I will be back directly. Don't get up, please," she said, and prevented him with a quick withdrawal to another room, which left upon his sense the impression of elegant grace, and a smile and sunny glance. But neither had any warmth in it. Colville heaved an involuntary sigh. "Do you feel very much used up?" he asked Imogene. "Not at all," she laughed. "Do you?" "Not in the least. My veglione hasn't ended yet. I'm still practically at the Pergola. It's easy to keep a thing of that sort up if you don't sleep after you get home." "Didn't you sleep? I expected to lie awake a long time thinking it over; but I dropped asleep at once. I suppose I was very tired. I didn't even dream." "You must have slept hard. You're pretty apt to dream when you're waking." "How do you know?" "Ah, I've noticed when you've been talking to me. Better not! It's a bad habit; it gives you false views of things. I used----" "But you mustn't say you _used!_ That's forbidden now. Remember your promise!" "My promise? What promise?" "Oh, if you've forgotten already." "I remember. But that was last night." "No, no! It was for all time. Why should dreams be so very misleading? I think there's ever so much in dreams. The most wonderful thing is the way you make people talk in dreams. It isn't strange that you should talk yourself, but that other people should say this and that when you aren't at all expecting what they say." "That's when you're sleeping. But when you're waking, you make people say just what you want. And that's why day dreams are so bad. If you make people say what you want, they probably don't mean it." "Don't you think so?" "Half the time. Do you ever have day dreams?" he asked Effie, pressing her cheek against his own. "I don't know what they are," she murmured, with a soft little note of polite regret for her ignorance, if possibly it incommoded him. "You will by and by," he said, "and then you must look out for them. They're particularly bad in this air. I had one of them in Florence once that lasted three months."