Once more the body obeyed, and sat up and drank the steaming cup to the
great comfort of the inner being. So reviving was its influence that
Mrs. Marteen decided to try her own will and speak.

"Thank you--" her lips spoke, and she felt elated. She made another
effort. "Thank you very much; it's most refreshing. No--no toast
now--but is there some more tea?"

She drank it greedily and lay back upon the pillows with a sigh. Images
were forming; memories were coming back now--scraps of things. There was
a young girl whom she loved dearly. She had brown hair, very blue eyes
and a delicious profile. She was tall and slender. She wore a blue serge
suit. Her name--was--was Dorothy. She spread her palms upon the sheet
and felt it cool and refreshing.

"I'm afraid I've had a fever," she said slowly. "I think I have it
still. I--I have such nightmares when I sleep--such nightmares." She
shuddered.

"Well," said the landlady cheerfully, "you'll feel better now. Take it
from me, tea's the thing." She gathered up the napkin, cup and saucer
and placed them on the tray. "Well, I'll let you be quiet, and I'll drop
in again about five."

Now another memory came, a conscious thought connection. She remembered
that Mrs. Bell had told her of her faithful landlady, Mrs. Mellen, with
whom she always stopped when she came North; she remembered calling
there many times for Mary, her smart motor waking the quiet,
unpretentious street. Now she remembered recalling the boarding house