"No."
"Why not, if I was so very much nicer than usual?"
Her deliberate misquotation, a common enough feminine trait, was characteristic of Edna's newly acquired mental agility, but in addition I perceived that there was something behind even that. It was something new for her to proceed so categorically. It embarrassed me not a little, and yet I could not quite bring myself to lie to her outright, even to throw her off the track. It was almost impossible when I looked her straight in the face—Joy's face—nor, of course, could I reveal anything of what had really happened.
"Oh," I said, "you're very nice now, but I'm not making love to you, you see."
She further disconcerted me by saying, "Why not?"
There was nothing to do now but to carry the war into Africa.
"Because Doctor Copin seems to have that right—or privilege," I gave her boldly, making a good deal of it by my tone.
"Doctor Copin is very nice indeed to me; indeed, he's nicer than you are to me, Chet. He tells me things that you won't, and he's helping me to get my memory back. Why don't you help me?"
"How can I help?" I asked.
"Tell me how I was different yesterday, if I was different. Was I different toward him?"