"Ah, you know how glad I'd be to! But I really must get back. I've imposed on your hospitality unconscionably, already."
"Oh, well," she turned to the window, "if you're going to pay me the conventional compliments, we won't press it."
"If you knew what an immensely unwarranted interest I've begun to take in you, you'd spare me," I replied.
She held out her hand to me, her graceful fingers slightly divergent, exquisitely posed. "Thank you for your gallantry," she said. "You came out of the dark, were literally dumped here, you know, and it has been wonderful that we have understood each other as well as we have." She stayed my interruption, with a wave of her hand. "Oh, I understand you, I think, at least well enough to be sure of you. But, let's be frank—you don't quite understand me, yet. You don't quite approve of me. Nevertheless, you like me, and we can be friends. It may indeed be that I shall put you, sometime, to the test, and give you the chance of proving it. Until that time comes, you'll have to stay on the island, Mr. Castle, I'm afraid."
I saw by these words that she must have forgotten her revelations of the night before. It didn't seem quite fair not to let her know. So, risking her displeasure, I came out with it.
"May I venture to remind you of what you said last night?"
She looked hard at me. "What did I say? What do you mean? About what? We talked of so many things, you know." She was embarrassed, on the defense, watching eagerly my first word of enlightenment.
"About your memory," I prompted.
"My memory? I don't quite recall—" Her lips were parted and her fists closed a little as she waited.
"About your having amnesia, you know."