He continued looking at her with great uncomprehending eyes.
"What day is it?" he asked slowly.
"Christmas."
"Good God!" He turned his face away, horror-stricken and ashamed; but she, struck by the movement and the shudder that passed through his body, called to him gently:
"Garry, I don't blame you. Look at me! No, don't turn away, please."
She stretched out her hand, and slipping it under his head, brought it back to her; when he lifted his eyes, hers were smiling through her tears, compassionate and tender.
"I went to pieces," he said slowly.
"Never mind! Now I know how much you need me—what I can mean!"
"I remember nothing. Good God! where have I been?" he said bitterly, and in his eyes was the black fog of impenetrable days and nights.
"It was my fault, too; I made the mistake, Garry!" she said hastily. "All that is over, though. Now we'll make the fight together!"