"I know. Go on." Gwen sat down, and waited. Some faces lose under stress of emotion. It was a peculiarity of this young lady's that every fresh tension added to the surpassing beauty of hers.
"I want you," said the doctor, speaking in a dry, businesslike way—"I want you to go back to when you brought her down here from London. Think of her then."
"I am thinking of her. I can remember her then, perfectly." And Gwen, thinking of that journey, saw her old companion plainly enough. A very old delicate woman, in need of consideration and care. No bedridden invalid! "When did the change show itself?" The doctor took the image in her mind for granted, successfully.
Then Gwen cast about to find an answer. "I think it must have been.... said she, and stopped.
"When did you see it?"
"When I came back, first. After I told her, still more."
"After that?"
"I thought she was improving, every day."
"I thought you thought so."
"And you mean that it was a mistake. Oh dear!"