They said no more for a moment, and each was now acutely aware of the other. Sheppard, passing her hand across her brow; "but my memory is gone—quite gone. Was the situation so desperate that he could not pack his best things? She had packed lightly, not wanting to weigh down the carriage they would travel in. Her eyes were perhaps a little brighter than usual, the firelight played about her hair, there seemed to him to be a sudden softening of the straight firm mouth. “It—it—must come,” she faltered. . There is a musical programme, and we have the windows open and blinds up, and a pink lamp shade over the piano lamp—a sort of advertisement of the place, you know.
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