"What have I been saying?" she demanded.
Mrs. Savage leaned back wearily and closed her eyes.
"It is like that, when you return to yourself, to the present.... Lord Summertown was disturbed by that poor girl who cried out."
"But I didn't know.... Did I go off? How long...?" She looked at her watch and found that she had been in the room for three-quarters of an hour. "What did I say?"
"You were a good subject."
"But what did I say?" Barbara repeated. It was the sight of her watch that upset her. In forty-five minutes it was possible to say so much, and she remembered Jack Summertown's almost indecent want of restraint.
"What shall I tell you," mused Mrs. Savage. "You said much, but you described an empty life. Few lines crossed yours; there may be more to come.... But you did not tell me of any loss. Were you afraid of losing some one?"
"No.... I wanted to know, I wanted to—to straighten things out. But I want to know everything I said. You must tell me that."
"You child!"
Barbara sprang up in a grip of terror.