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With one hand he felt up her sleeve, and there, where the Dream-Woman had hidden the knife, his wife had hidden it the knife with the buckhorn handle, that looked like new. In the despair of that fearful moment his brain was steady, his heart was calm.
It was very unusual for her to find herself in the streets alone, and this increased the curious dazed sensation with which she went out among all these real people, so lively and energetic, while she was still little more than a dream-woman, possessed by one thought, moving along, she knew not how, with a sense of helplessness and unprotectedness, which made the novelty all the more sensible to her.
She smiled to Morgan, displaying two rows of tiny white teeth, and held out to him a long, brown hand. He took it in his, and the contact set vibrating every chord of his nature that had been strung up during the past days. At last he was face to face with the dream-woman who had haunted him, and she was even as he had seen her!
"Ah, Martino," sighed she softly, "do not these petticoats become me vastly well, yes?" And reaching up, she set her arms about me. "Am I not better than dream-woman, I that men have died for I, Joanna?" Now hereupon I shivered and loosing her hold rose to my feet and stood with head averted that I might not behold her.
Probably she and he had children ... but, beyond the fact that they lived happily ever afterwards, there did not appear to be much more to say about them.... Somehow, it seemed to him now, as he stood in the shelter of the Pit Entrance to the Theatre Royal, reading Romeo and Juliet, that the heroine was different from his dream-woman.
Little, lady's hands, with a rosy-red look about the finger nails." "Did you notice how she was dressed, Francis?" "No, mother." "Did you notice the knife?" "Yes. A large clasp knife, with a buckhorn handle, as good as new." My mother added the description of the knife. Also the year, month, day of the week, and hour of the day when the Dream-Woman appeared to me at the inn.
Always, when the adventure was ended, he went up to the dream-woman, waiting for him in a misty manner, and he took hold of her hand and led her away ... and while he was leading her away, the adventure seemed to come to an end ... the picture dissolved ... and he could not see any more.
The clear cloak hanging from her shoulders, the ivory face for the night had put out nothing of her but the gleams of her hair made her resemble a shining dream-woman uttering words of wistful inquiry. She disappeared without a sign, leaving Renouard penetrated to the very marrow by the sounds that came from her body like a mysterious resonance of an exquisite instrument. He stood stock still.
His dream-woman had always been very insubstantial and remote, but Juliet was a real woman, alive and passionate, with a real father and a real mother. The odd thing about his dream-woman was that she did not appear to have any relatives ... at least he had never heard of any. She had not even got a name. She never spoke to him.
"It made me dream of her that was never more than a dream-woman until I saw you. No longer a dream not after you stepped out onto the veranda of the Governor's house that night in Momba. I knew it again when, looking out from the shrubbery in the garden, you looked at me and said, 'And who is this? And I knew it when with you in the long-boat, when I wanted to reach out and take your hand "
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