"Ulric?" she repeated the name wonderingly. There was no comprehension in her face.
"Are you sure of the name?" she asked. "I never heard it in my life before."
He smothered his agitation with a strange laugh.
"Perhaps," he suggested, "Ulric was one of your companions when you were a child."
"Perhaps," she assented. "Yet the name is so uncommon that I think I should have remembered it."
"Well," he continued, "there was a person of the name of Trowse—an enemy, I should think, or some one you disliked. What of him?"
Again the blankness of non-comprehension. She shook her head at him and smiled.
"Do you know," she said, "I shall believe soon that it is you who have been raving. Trowse! Ulric! I never heard such names in my life. Tell me, was there any one else?"
"You spoke of my mother and sister as though you knew them," he said.
She shook her head.