smiling so tranquilly: not I sitting musingly overlooking him who had overnight 'enjoyed me': not the husband, because he never knew it—before he could open the guilty door I awoke.
A short-cut gently headlong dream. I was at once married, mixed adulterantly with an imperfect stranger and awaiting in pleasant mild anticipation, to match the pink-and-pearl of the summer dawn, the climax in the approaching sound of my husband's footsteps. It was humorous and artistic. Unseemly preliminaries were done away with in that dream. I was given at once the one exciting worthwhile moment in it.
Having no data as to what were my husband's, temper and tenor, what he looked like or who he was, I could not in the dream or out of it surmise what he would say or how he would act when he opened the door.
—a theme for idling speculation in a summer's day—
Also I wonder whence came that dream: so Unexpected: so Irrelevant to any thought in me: so Artistically Right: so Disgusting: so Dramatic: so quaintly Vulgar.
A question: to which the one answer is that unanswerable answer to all questions, propounded by Mr. F.'s Aunt—'There's milestones on the Dover road.'
