‘I hardly know. My head has been full of other things, and any time will do. But I should like to see it in its own place once more.’
I had taken it from the wall, and now handed it to her.
‘Is this it?’ she said carelessly.
‘It is—just as it was carried off my bed that night.’
‘What room were you in?’ she asked, trying to draw it from the sheath.
‘I can’t tell. I’ve never been in it since.’
‘You don’t seem to me to have the curiosity natural to a—’
‘To a woman—no,’ I said.
‘To a man of spirit,’ she retorted, with an appearance of indignation. ‘I don’t believe you can tell even how it came into your possession!’
‘Why shouldn’t it have been in the family from time immemorial?’