“Well, it was so odd—I really don’t know what made me think of it just now, but it happened to come into my head—do you know that I dreamt it every night for about a fortnight? That was in May. I have never done such a thing before. Then it stopped again quite suddenly, and I haven’t dreamt it since. I wonder whether speaking of it to you—” he broke off. “I wonder,” said Elizabeth. “You see it came again and again. And the strange part was that I used to wake in the morning feeling as if there was a lot more of it. A lot more than there used to be. Things I couldn’t remember—I don’t know why I tell you this.” “It interests me,” said Elizabeth. “You know how one forgets a dream, and then, quite suddenly, you just don’t remember it. It’s the queerest thing—something gets the impression, but the brain doesn’t record it. It’s most amazingly provoking. Just now, while I was writing to Fossett, bits of something came over me like a flash. And now it’s gone again. Do you ever dream?” “Sometimes,” said Elizabeth. This was her time to tell him. But Elizabeth did not tell him. It seemed to her that she had been told, quite definitely, to wait, and she was dimly aware of the reason. The time was not yet. David finished his letter. Then he said: “Don’t you want to go away this summer?” “No,” said Elizabeth, a little surprised. “I don’t think I do. Why?” “Most people seem to go away. Mary would like you to go with her, wouldn’t she?” “Yes, but I’ve told her I don’t want to go. She won’t be alone, you know, now that Edward finds that he can get away.” David laughed. “Poor old Edward,” he said. “A month ago the business couldn’t get on without him. He was conscience-ridden, and snatched exiguous half-hours for Mary and his beetles. And now it appears, that after all, the business can get on without him. I don’t know quite how Macpherson brought that fact home to Edward. He must have put it very straight, and I’m afraid that Edward’s feelings were a good deal hurt. Personally, I should say that the less Edward interferes with Macpherson the more radiantly will bank-managers smile upon Edward. Edward is a well-meaning person. Mr. Mottisfont would have called him damn well-meaning. And you cannot damn any man deeper than that in business. No, Edward can afford to take a holiday better than most people. He will probably start a marine collection and be perfectly happy. Why don’t you join them for a bit?” “I don’t think I want to,” said Elizabeth. “I’m going up to London for Agneta’s wedding next week. I don’t want to go anywhere else. Do you want to get rid of me?” To her surprise, David coloured. “I?” he said. For a moment an odd expression passed across his face. Then he laughed. “I might have wanted to flirt with Miss Dobell.” * * * * * * * * Agneta Mainwaring was married at the end of July.