"Of how the baby--separated us--and--" She paused, almost in
tears.

From what I knew of the method of psychanalysis, I recalled it was
the gaps and hesitations which were most important in arriving at
the truth regarding the cause of her trouble.

"Perhaps it was my fault; perhaps I was a better mother than wife.
I thought I was doing what he would want me to do. Too late I see
my mistake."

It was easy to read into her story that there had been other women
in his life. It had wounded her deeply. Yet it was equally plain
that she still loved him.

"Go on," urged Kennedy, gently.

"Oh yes," she resumed, dreamily; "I am thinking about once, when I
left him, I wandered through the country. I remember little except
that it was the country through which we had passed on an
automobile trip on our honeymoon. Once I thought I saw him, and I
tried to get to him. I longed for him, but each time, when I
almost reached him, he would disappear. I seemed to be so deserted
and alone. I tried to call him, but my tongue refused to say his
name. It must have been hours that I wandered about, for I recall
nothing after that until I was found, disheveled and exhausted."

She paused and closed her eyes, while I could see that Kennedy
considered this gap very important.