The girl frowned. "Peter," she said, "I'm sorry if I seemed rude, before—the last time you were here. It was just that I.... Well, you didn't remember me. I couldn't understand."
Peter stared at her. Yes—he should remember her. He did, only—
"Perhaps this will help you," the girl said. She rummaged in a pocket of her uniform, brought something out that was tiny and glittering. "I don't wear it on duty, Peter. But I guess this is an exception...."
Peter pushed himself up on one elbow, trying to make out what she was doing. She was slipping the small thing on a finger....
A ring. An engagement ring!
"Oh—" said Peter. And suddenly everything clicked; he remembered; he could recall ... everything. That second blow on his head had undone the harm of the first one.
He swung his legs over the side of the bed, stood up, reached out hungry arms for the girl.
"Of course I remember," he said as she came into the circle of his arms. "The ring on your finger. I ought to remember—I put it there!"
And for a long time after there was no need for words.