Ann Veronica was by this time quite shocked at her own thoughts, and yet they would go on with their freaks. My wife—killed me. She was a merry creature, it is true, and quite beautiful. Of what use was the temporary set-back to memory, when it always returned with redoubled poignancy? Then came another thought, astonishing. Why should he stare at her in this fashion?—for all the world as if she had pointed a pistol at his head? CHAPTER III He had said it, spoken it like that … his own name! After all these weeks of trying to obliterate even the memory of it!… to have given it to this girl without her asking! The thought of peril cleared a space in the alcoholic fog.
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