"Enschede; Ruth Enschede."
"En-shad-ay. You are French?"
"No. Dutch; Pennsylvania Dutch."
And then his interest would cease. Perhaps an hour later he would begin again.
At other times he seemed to have regained the normal completely. He would discuss something she had been reading, and he would give her some unexpected angle, setting a fictional character before her with astonishing clearness. Then suddenly the curtain would fall.
"What is your name?" To-day, however, he broke the monotony. "An
American. Enschede—that's a queer name."
"I'm a queer girl," she replied with a smile.
Perhaps this was the real turning point: the hour in which the disordered mind began permanently to readjust itself.
"I've been wondering, until this morning, if you were real."
"I've been wondering, too."