"Harold!"

"Do not wrong me; I am in dead earnest. As a plain matter of fact, I
never heard of anything so horrible. Thank heaven it happened when you
were so young! No woman's will and spirit could rise superior to such
a memory if it were a recent one. But am I forgiven?"

"As you are perfectly incorrigible, I suppose there is no use being
angry with you," she said, still with a little pout on her lips. "But
I will forgive you on one condition only."

"Name it."

"You are never to mention the subject to me again after to-night."

"I never will; but tell me, has the memory of your childhood never
come back for a moment?"

"Never. All I remember is that sense of everlasting wandering and
looking for something. For a long while I was haunted with the idea
that there was something I still must find. I never could discover
what it was, but it has left me now. If you had not been so unkind, I
should have said that it is because I am too happy for mysterious and
somewhat supernatural longings."

"But as it is, you won't. It was an odd feeling to have, though.
Perhaps it was a quest for the memories of your childhood--for a lost
existence, as it were. If ever it comes again, tell me, and we will
try and work it out together."