"No, I cannot imagine it. I suppose he does not want to make everybody feel badly about it."
"Mr. Griggs, is she really mad?" asked Hermione, in a low voice, leaning forward and clasping her hands.
"Why," I began, very much surprised, "does anybody doubt that she is insane?"
"I do," said the young girl, decidedly. "I do not believe she is any more insane than you and I are."
"That is a very bold thing to say," I objected, "when a man of Professor Cutter's reputation in those things says that she is crazy, and gives up so much time to visiting her."
"All the same," said Hermione, "I do not believe it. I am sure people sometimes try to kill themselves without being insane, and that is all it rests on."
"But she has never recognized any one since that," I urged.
"Perhaps she is ashamed," suggested my companion, simply.
I was struck by the reply. It was such a simple idea that it seemed almost foolish. But it was a woman's thought about another woman, and it had its value. I laughed a little, but I answered seriously enough.
"Why should she be ashamed?"