"There is something that I have been wanting to tell you," she began, before she was well aware that she spoke—"something that I don't know exactly how to say, or whether I ought to say it at all."
Von Klausen was openly concerned.
"If you are in doubt," he replied, "perhaps it would be better if you first thought more about it."
But his opposition, though totally the reverse to what she had expected, clinched her resolve.
"No," she said. "I ought to tell you about it. Now that I have started I know I ought. It's—it's about that time in the fog."
Von Klausen's colour mounted. Then, politely, he pretended to forget the incident.
"Yes, don't you remember? You must remember."
"I remember. It was a very sudden fog."
"Well," she said, "it was about what happened then. I must speak to you—I must explain about that." She was holding tightly to the rail.
Von Klausen saw her wrists tremble. He made little of the subject.