hings. I think the perfect memory would be one which would only
retain the happiness of life. You know the old motto found on many
sundials: 'I only record sunny hours.'"

"I don't agree with you," she said quietly. "It's the shadows which give
value to the high lights, isn't it? And sometimes to remember dreadful
things is a happiness in itself, knowing they are gone for ever. I can
quite well bear to remember that horrible prison"--as always when
speaking of it, her lips whitened--"because no power on earth can ever
put me back there again."

"I don't think it can do you any good to dwell on such memories," he
persisted. "If you are wise you will forget them. No wonder your head
aches if you dwell on such unpleasant things."

She looked at him more fully, and in her eyes he read something which
baffled him.

"You are quite right--and delightfully sane and sensible," she said.
"But as a matter of fact, I wasn't really thinking of the prison to-day.
You see, this is the anniversary of my wedding day, and my thoughts were
not altogether sad ones."

He looked at her, nonplussed for the moment, and suddenly Chloe's face
softened.

"Dr. Anstice, forgive me. The fact is, I had a bad night, and am all on
edge this morning."

"Why do you sit in here?" asked Anstice abruptly. "It is a lovely
morning--the sun is warm and there's no wind. Why not go out into your
charming garden? Lie in a low chair and sleep--or read some amusing
book. Is this a particularly engrossing one?"

He picked up the volume she had laid down at his entrance, and she
watched him with a faint hint of mockery in her blue eyes. His face
changed as he read the title.

"De Quincey's _Confessions_! Mrs. Carstairs, you're not interested in
this sort of thing?"

"Why not?" Her manner was ever so slightly antagonistic. "The subject is
a fascinating one, isn't it? I confess I've often felt inclined to try
opium--morphia or something of the sort, myself."

"Morphia?" His voice startled her by its harshness. "Don't make a joke
of it, Mrs. Carstairs. If I thought you really meant that----"

"But I do--or did." She spoke coolly. "I even went so far as to purchase
the means of indulging my fancy."

"You did? But--forgive me--why?"

"Don't we all sigh for oblivion now and then?" She put the question
calmly, looking him squarely in the face the while. "I have always
understood that morphia is one of the roads into Paradise--a Fool's
Paradise, no doubt,