“No, you don’t forget. I’ve noticed that. It’s foolish, but I like someone to remember. Suppose you forgot too!”
One of her rare smiles lit up her face. But I did not tell her what would happen if I forgot too. I knew very well in my own mind, though. I was not trammelled by previous attentions, nor was I making three or four thousand a year.
“You’ll tell me when you go—and where?” I asked.
“Yes, if you like to know.”
“And will ‘they’ know too?”
She looked at me with searching eyes. “Are you laughing?” she asked, and it seemed to me that there was a break in her voice.
“God forbid, madam!” said I.
“Ah, but I think you should be. How the present can make the past ridiculous!”
“Neither the past ridiculous nor the future impossible,” I said.
She laid her hand on my arm for a moment with a gentle pressure.