John had noticed it at the railway bookstall by the name of 'The World of Sleep.' He used to joke with me about my being a sleepwalker; and he said, 'Here's something that's sure to interest you'-- and he made me a present of the book.
"Before I had read to him for more than half an hour he was fast asleep.
Not feeling that way inclined, I went on reading to myself.
"The book did indeed interest me.

There was one terrible story which took a hold on my mind--the story of a man who stabbed his own wife in a sleep-walking dream.

I thought of putting down my book after that, and then changed my mind again and went on.

The next chapters were not so interesting; they were full of learned accounts of why we fall asleep, and what our brains do in that state, and such like.

It ended in my falling asleep, too, in my armchair by the fireside.
"I don't know what o'clock it was when I went to sleep.