Then
she went to Mars with us, and there I heard the same sweet voice also from
one of the noble women of that happy planet.
"Oh, what queer things we do in our sleep, and how supremely selfish a
dreamer is. I once had a theory that we are all responsible for the
character of our dreams, but I hope, my dear, that you will not call me to
too strict an account in this case, I should blush to tell you how I loved
each singer, and yet I know now it was only the voice that charmed me. I
shall seek my pillow with delight to-night, to try and catch in my sleep
some faint echo of that song, for I never expect to hear its like in my
waking hours. You are laughing at me, and I don't wonder. Let me see. I
dreamed that I dreamed that you and Mona and Avis were all one grand,
sweet singer. I wonder what would have happened if I had staid there long
enough to tell Avis something that was on my mind. Perhaps I never should
have come away.
"But forgive me, dear Margaret, for my enthusiasm for simply a memory, and
put the blame on my sensitive ears.
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