"If I can."
"When shall I remember things?"
He looked at her thoughtfully. She kept her eyes averted, but she seemed to be shivering a little.
"Perhaps to-morrow," he answered. "Perhaps not for a year. It is one of those things which science is powerless to determine."
"But I shall—remember—some day?"
"Some day—certainly. Let me ask you a question."
"Well?"
"Are you very anxious to remember?"
"It is so puzzling," she answered. "Sometimes I want to very much, sometimes I am content."
There was a moment's silence. As though against her will, she turned her head and looked up at him standing over her bedside. Again there was the faint shrinking away, again her troubled eyes seemed held by his against her will.