run away when spoken to—so like a woman, too, to baulk a natural curiosity. What did it all mean? Why had he thought the woman a side-of-beef, then a feather-bed? What was she there for? Why did he appear to be floating about in space? Why did his whole body feel numbed, yet tingling?
Suddenly he remembered the previous day's adventures, the Rain-Girl, the dinner, Pan, and the concertina. He must get up at once, or she might be gone. He must see her again. He struggled into a sitting posture, then fell back suddenly. He had no strength. What did it all mean?
The door opened and the woman in the print-dress reappeared.
"Where's the Rain-Girl?" he demanded before she had time to close the door behind her, "and what's the time?"
"It's eleven o'clock, and you must lie still, or you'll become worse."
The woman's voice was soft and soothing. For some minutes he pondered deeply over the impenetrable mystery of her words. "Worse!" Had he been ill? It was absurd; yet why was he so weak? Eleven o'clock! Where has his shaving-water?
"What is the date?" he suddenly demanded.
"You must be quiet and not talk," was the reply.
"I must know the date," he insisted.
"It's the eighth of May, and you've been ill and must rest. You're very weak." The nurse bent over him and fussed about with the pillows.
