Mr Bethany stooped quickly. 'What is it, what is it?' he
whispered.

Lawford sighed. 'I was only dreaming, Sheila,' he said, and
softly, peacefully opened his eyes. 'I dreamed I was in the--,
His lids narrowed, his dark eyes fixed themselves on the anxious
spectacled face bending over him. 'Mr Bethany! Where? What's
wrong?'

His friend put out his hand. 'There, there,' he said soothingly,
'do not be disturbed; do not disquiet yourself.'

Lawford struggled up. Slowly, painfully consciousness returned to
him. He glanced furtively round the room, at his clothes,
slinkingly at the vicar; licked his lips; flushed with
extraordinary rapidity; and suddenly burst into tears.

Mr Bethany sat without movement, waiting till he should have
spent himself. 'Now, Lawford,' he said gently, compose yourself,
old friend. We must face the music--like men.' He went to the
window, drew up the blind, peeped out, and took off his
spectacles.

'The first thing to be done,' he said, returning briskly to his
chair, 'is to send for Simon. Now, does Simon know you WELL?'
Lawford shook his head. 'Would he recognise you?... I mean...'

'I have only met him once--in the evening.'