"Something real, I mean, not just bad dreams.

I know I had to ask you about it, and yet I didn't want to ask you." Charles Verity rose from his place, slowly walked the length of the room; and, presently returning, stood at the foot of the bed.

Damaris still sat upright, her hands clasped, her hair hanging in a cloud about her to below the waist.

The light was low and the shadow cast by the bed-curtain covered her.

But, through it, he could still distinguish the startled anxiety of her great eyes as she pondered, trying to seize and hold some memory which escaped her.