"Nonsense!"
"But he is! Here's the explanation—here's the mystery. A grocer—in an apron!"
Bertha was standing still. She, too, looked astonished, perplexed.
"Isn't it a case of extraordinary likeness?" she asked, with a grave smile.
"Oh, dear, no! I met his eye—he showed that he knew me—and then his voice. A grocer—in an apron?"
"This is very shocking," said Bertha, with a recovery of her natural humour. "Let us walk. Let us shake off the nightmare."
The word applied very well to Rosamund's condition; her fixed eyes were like those of a somnambulist.
"But, Bertha!" she suddenly exclaimed, in a voice of almost petulant protest. "He knew you all the time—oh, but perhaps he did not know your name?"
"Indeed he did. He's constantly sending things to the house."
"How extraordinary! Did you ever hear such an astonishing thing in your life?"