who repeats a lesson. "No, I do not
know him. I _know_--I do not know him."

"But--but ... Not know me! It is I--Denton. Denton! To whom you used to
talk. Don't you remember the flying stages? The little seat in the open
air? The verses--"

"No," cried Elizabeth,--"no. I do not know him. I do not know him. There
is something.... But I don't know. All I know is that I do not know
him." Her face was a face of infinite distress.

The sharp eyes of the chaperone flitted to and fro from the girl to the
man. "You see?" she said, with the faint shadow of a smile. "She does
not know you."

"I do not know you," said Elizabeth. "Of that I am sure."

"But, dear--the songs--the little verses--"

"She does not know you," said the chaperone. "You must not.... You have
made a mistake. You must not go on talking to us after that. You must
not annoy us on the public ways."

"But--" said Denton, and for a moment his miserably haggard face
appealed against fate.

"You must not persist, young man," protested the chaperone.

"_Elizabeth!_" he cried.

Her face was the face of one who is tormented. "I do not know you," she
cried, hand to brow. "Oh, I do not know you!"

For an instant Denton sat stunned. Then he stood up and groaned aloud.

He made a strange gesture of appeal towards the remote glass roof of the
public way, then turned and went plunging recklessly from one moving
platform to another, and vanished amidst the swarms of people going to
and fro thereon. The chaperone's eyes followed him, and then she looked
at the curious faces about her.

"Dear," asked Elizabeth, clasping her hand, and too deeply moved to heed
observation, "who was that man? Who _was_ that man?"

The chaperone raised her eyebrows. She spoke in a clear, audible voice.
"Some half-witted creature. I have never set eyes on him before."

"Never?"

"Never, dear. Do not trouble your mind about a thing like this."

* * * * *

And soon after this the celebrated hypnotist who dressed in green and
yellow had another client. The young man paced his consulting-room, pale
and disordered. "I want to forget," he cried. "I _must_ forget."

The hypnotist watched him with quiet eyes, studied his face and clothes
and bearing. "To forget anything--pleasure or pain--is to be, by so
much--_less_. However, you know your own concern. My fee is high."

"If only I can forget--"

"That's easy enough with you. You wish it. I've done m