"No."
"Nothing that seems to stir in you any memory?"
She shook her head smilingly, turned over the heap of garments, shifting them to one side or the other, caught a glimpse of the little cloak of pale blue silk and swansdown, lifted it curiously.
"How odd," she said; "I have——" She hesitated, looked intently at the faded silk, passed one slim hand over the swansdown, stood with brows bent slightly inward as though searching in her mind, deeply, for something which eluded her.
Warner did not speak or stir; presently she turned toward him, perplexed, still searching in her memory.
"It's odd," she said, "that I seem to remember a cloak like this.... Or perhaps as a very little child I dreamed about such a pretty cloak.... It was long ago.... Where did you get it, Jim?"
"Do you seem to remember it?"
"Somehow, I seem to."
"Is there anything else there which appears at all familiar to you?"
She sorted over the toys and garments, shook her head, picked up a picture book and stood idly turning the pages——