han that. In one dream I see him--Oh!" she shuddered and the
agony in her eyes was more eloquent than words.

"My dear lady, you are naturally wrought up by these dreadful
experiences, you need rest, quiet surroundings, good food, a little
relaxation----"

"No, no, no," Mrs. Wells interrupted impatiently.

"Don't tell me those old things. I am a trained nurse. I _know_ my case
is entirely different."

"How is it different? We all have dreams. I have dreams myself. One
night I dreamed that I was dissecting the janitor downstairs; sometimes
I wish I had."

Penelope brushed aside this effort at humor. "You haven't dreamed that
twenty times with every detail the same, have you? That's how I dream. I
see these faces, real faces, again and again. I hear the same cries, the
same words, vile words. Oh, I can't tell you how horrible it is!"

"But we are not responsible for our dreams," the doctor insisted.

She shook her head wearily. "That's just the point, it seems to me that
I am responsible. I feel as if I _enjoy_ these horrible dreams--while I
am dreaming them. When I am awake, the very thought of them makes me
shudder, but while I am dreaming I seem to be an entirely different
person--a low, vulgar creature proud of the brutal strength and
coarseness of her man. I seem to be a part of this human beast! When I
wake up I feel as if my soul had been stained, dragged in the mire,
almost lost. It seems as if I could never again feel any self-respect.
Oh, doctor," Penelope's voice broke and the tears filled her eyes, "you
must help me! I cannot bear this torture any longer! What can I do to
escape from such a curse?"

Seldom, in his years of practice, had the specialist been so moved by a
patient's confession as was Dr. Owen during Penelope's revelation of her
suffering. As a kindly human soul he longed to help this agonized
mortal; as a scientific expert he was eager to solve the mystery of this
nervous disorder. He leaned toward her with a look of compassion.

"Be assured, my dear Mrs. Wells, I shall do everything in my power to
help you. And in order to accomplish what we want, I must understand a
great many things about your past life." He drew a letter from his
pocket. "Let me look over what Captain Herrick wrote me about you. Hm!
He refers to your married life?"

"Yes."

The doctor studied the letter in silence. "I see. Your husband died
about four years ago?"

"Four years and a half."

"I judge that your