"You'll have a relapse, my child!" she exclaimed, half crying, and
clinging to me in her terror. "You'll forget all you've learned:
you'll go back these four years again!--Leave my house at once, sir!
You should never have entered it!"

I stood between them like a statue.

"No, stop here a little longer," I said, waving my hand towards him
imperiously. "I haven't yet heard all it's right for me to hear....
Auntie, you mistake. I'm a woman at last. I see what everything
means. I'm beginning to remember again. For four years that hateful
Picture has haunted me night and day. I could never shut my eyes for
a minute without seeing it. I've longed to know what it all meant;
but whenever I've asked, I've been repressed like a baby. I'm a baby
no longer: I feel myself a woman. What the Inspector here has told
me already, half opens my eyes: I must have them opened altogether
now. I can't stop at this point. I'm going back to Woodbury."

Aunt Emma clung to me still harder in a perfect agony of passionate
terror.

"To Woodbury, my darling!" she cried. "Going back! Oh, Una, it'll
kill you!"

"I think not," the Inspector answered, with a very quiet smile.
"Miss Callingham has recovered, I venture to say, far more
profoundly than you imagine. This repression, our medical adviser
tells us, has been bad for her. If she's allowed to visit freely the
places connected with her earlier life, it may all return again to
her; and the ends of Justice may thus at last be served for us. I