Then a Moth Smashed Upon the Fender of a Car.

Mrs. Colville's husband was a sleepwalker, she told him the next morning. He seemed to be dancing upon the staircase and would dart very rapidly at something visible. The old rage he had so often felt against pockets came upon him again. By halfway over the down by the charcoats, the moth came upon happily again. Then it came into his mind with extraordinary vividness that no one would ever be able to see the strange moth except himself. It behoved him to keep silent about it.