I would like to, but"-- she flung the contents from the window--"I won't.

And _that_ is the way I am able to control myself." She smiled, set the glass aside, and raised her eyes to the paling stars.

When at last she stretched herself out on the bed, dawn was already lighting the room, but she fell asleep at once.
It was a flushed and rather heavy slumber, not perfectly natural; and when Kathleen entered at nine o'clock, followed by Geraldine's maid with the breakfast-tray, the girl still lay with face buried in her hair, breathing deeply and irregularly, her lashes wet with tears.
The maid retired; Kathleen bent low over the feverishly parted lips, kissed them, hesitated, drew back sharply, and cast a rapid glance around the room.

Then she went over to the dressing-table and lifted Rosalie's antique flacon; and set it back slowly, as the girl turned her face on the pillow and opened her eyes.
"Is that you, Kathleen ?" "Yes, dear." For a few seconds she lay quite motionless, then, rising on one elbow, she passed the backs of her fingers across her lids, laughed sleepily, and straightened up, freeing her eyes from the confusion of her hair.
"I've had horrid dreams.

I've been crying in my sleep.