and I, instead of being here, are really asleep somewhere, on
different continents?"

She nodded.

"We are asleep," she said, "on different continents, as you say.
Whether we are dreaming or whether our two souls are taking a little
excursion through space--oh, who shall say? Who can question the
wonderful things which happen in this most wonderful world? I have
ceased to question, but I have also ceased to fear."

He made no reply. Somewhere, in the back of his head, lay fear--a very
definite, paralyzing fear--that something was wrong with him or with
her or with them both. Instead of being in the neutral border-land of
dreams, had he not perhaps passed the tragic line dividing the normal
mind from the insane? She seemed to read his thoughts, and her manner
became more gentle, almost tender.

"Is it so very dreadful?" she asked, softly. "We are together, you
know, my friend. Would it not be worse to wander about alone?"

With a great effort he pulled himself together.

"Infinitely," he said, with gratifying conviction. "And you're--you're
a trump, you know. I'm ashamed of acting like such a boor. If you'll
bear with me I'll try from now on to be more like a man and less like
a fretful ghost."

She clapped her hands.