That was all right; Chester
had no wish to be wakened at five in the morning by the sunlight
streaming into the room. He meant to have a really long rest. He was
too tired to think--too tired to do anything but turn in.
And then an odd thing happened. Chester's brain was so thoroughly awake,
he had become so over-excited, that he could not, try as he might, fall
asleep.
He lay awake tossing about hour after hour. And then, when at last he did
fall into a heavy, troubled slumber, he was disturbed by extraordinary
and unpleasant dreams--nightmares in which Sylvia Bailey seemed to play
a part.
At last he roused himself and pulled back the curtains from across the
window. It was already dawn, but he thought the cool morning air might
induce sleep, and for a while, lying on his side away from the light, he
did doze lightly.
Quite suddenly he was awakened by the sensation, nay, the knowledge, that
there was someone in the room! So vivid was this feeling of unwished-for
companionship that he got up and looked in the shadowed recess of the
alcove in which stood his bed; but, of course, there was no one there.
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