"When I've just one chance for life, do you think it is kind to remind me that it may fail?
Let me alone to-night." The mental agitation of the past two days, supervening on so long a period of profound depression, had thrown her into a state of agitation bordering on hysteria.

She was constantly changing her attitude, rising and seating herself, and walking excitedly about.

She would talk rapidly one moment, and then relapse into a sudden chilled silence in which she seemed to hear nothing.

Once or twice she laughed a hard, unnatural laugh of pure nervousness.
Presently she said-- "After I've forgotten all about myself, and no longer remember any reason why I shouldn't marry you, you will still remember what I've forgotten, and perhaps you won't want me." "You know very well that I want you any way, and just the same whatever happens or doesn't happen," he answered.
"I wonder whether it will be fair to let you marry me after I've forgotten," she continued, thoughtfully.

"I don't know, but I ought to make you promise now that you won't ask me to be your wife, for, of course, I shouldn't then know any reason for refusing you." "I wouldn't promise that." "Oh, but you wouldn't do so mean a thing as to take an unfair advantage of my ignorance," she replied.