He did not see the horror-struck glance at the door, but he heard the whisper—
'Forgotten!'
'No, no'—he caught himself up—'I don't mean exactly forgotten. But you're torturing me so that I don't know what I'm saying.' He went closer. 'You aren't going to let this old thing come between you and me?'
She pressed her handkerchief to her lips, and then took it away.
'I can't make or unmake the past,' she said steadily. 'But I'm glad, at least, that you didn't mean to desert her in her trouble. You'll remind her of that first of all, won't you?'
She was moving across the room as she spoke, and, when she had ended, the handkerchief went quickly to her lips again as if to shut the door on sobbing.
'Where are you going?' He raised his voice. 'Why should I remind anybody of what I want only to forget?'
'Hush! Oh, hush!' A moment she looked back, holding up praying hands.
His eyes had flown to the door. 'You don't mean she's——'
'Yes. I left her to get a little rest.'