"Why not?" asked Alice, puzzled.
"Because the past—up to the time I named—is a perfect blank to me. My mind refuses absolutely to tell me who I was or where I lived—who my people were—anything of the past. My mind is like a blank sheet of paper. I can remember nothing. Oh, isn't it awful!" and she burst into tears.
CHAPTER XVIII
"WHAT CAN WE DO?"
"You poor dear!" cried Alice, and she knelt down on the floor beside Estelle and put her arms about the weeping girl. Ruth, too, with an expression of sympathy, stroked the bowed head.
"We want so much to help you," Ruth murmured.
"Let me get you something," begged Alice. "Some smelling salts—some ammonia—shall I call any one—the doctor——?"
"No, I—I'll be all right presently," said Estelle in a broken voice. "Just let me alone a little while—I mean stay with me—talk to me—tell me something. I want to get control of my nerves."
Ruth did not seem to know what to say, but Alice pulled a small bottle from her pocket, and held it under Estelle's nose.