'Life is a dream,' observed Monkey, while Jinny seemed uncertain
whether she should laugh or take it seriously.
The Widow Jequier overheard her. There was little she did not
overhear.
'Coquine!' she said, then quoted with a sentimental sigh:--
La vie est breve,
Un peu d'amour.
Un peu de rive
Et puis--bonjour!
She hung her head sideways a moment for effect. There was a pause all
down the long table.
'I'm sure dreams have significance,' she went on. 'There's more in
dreaming than one thinks. They come as warnings or encouragement. All
the saints had dreams. I always pay attention to mine.'
'Madame, _I_ dream a great deal,' repeated Miss Waghorn, anxious not
to be left out of a conversation in which she understood at least the
key-word _reve_; 'a very great deal, I may say.'
Several looked up, ready to tell nightmares of their own at the least
sign of encouragement. The Postmaster faced the table, laying down his
knife and fork. He took a deep breath. This time he meant to have his
say. But his deliberation always lost him openings.
_I_ don't,' exclaimed Jinny, bluntly, five minutes behind the others.
'When I'm in bed, I sleep.' The statement brought laughter that
confused her a little. She loved to define her position. She had
defined it.
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