en you're not here. But
it's nothing." Rosalind did not agree to this at all.

"I wish Mrs. Lobjoit could have put us both in one room," she said.

"Well, _we_ didn't see our way, you know," he replied, referring
to past councils on sleeping arrangements. "It's only for a week,
after all."

"Yes, darling; but a week's a week, and I can't have you worried to
death." She made him lie down again, and sat by him, holding his hand.
So unnerved was he by his glance back into his past, so long unknown
to him, and so sweet was the comfort of her presence and the touch of
her living hand after all those hours of perturbation alone, that
Fenwick made no protest against her remaining beside him. But a
passiveness that would have belonged to an invalid or a sluggish
temperament seemed unlike the strong man Rosalind knew him for, and
she guessed from it that there was more behind. Still, she said
nothing, and sat on with his hand grasping hers and finding in it his
refuge from himself. To her its warm pressure was a sure sign that
his memory had not penetrated the darkness of his earlier time. If
God willed, it might never do so. Meanwhile, what was there for it
but patience?

As she sat there listening to the roaring of the gale outside, and
watching with satisfaction the evident coming of sleep, she said to
herself that it might easily be that some new thing had come back to
him which he would be unwilling she should know about, at least until
his own mind was clearer. He might speak with less reserve to Vereker.
She would give the doctor leave to talk to him to-morrow. Fear of
what she would hear may have influenced her in this.

So when, sooner than she had expected, she caught the sound of the
first breath of indisputable sleep, she rose and slipped away quietly,
and as she lay down again to rest again asked herself the question:
Was it the galvanism that had done it?

CHAPTER XXXVI

HOW FENWICK AND VEREKER WENT FOR A WALK, AND MORE MEMORIES CAME BACK.
HOW FENWICK WAS A MILLIONAIRE, OR THEREABOUTS. OF A CLUE THAT KILLED
ITSELF. HARRISSON'S AFFAIR NOW! BOTHER THE MILLIONS! IS NOT LOVE
BETTER THAN MONEY? ONLY FENWICK'S NAME WASN'T HARRISSON NEITHER

"We thought it best to let you have your sleep out, dear. Sally
agreed. No, leave the pot alone. Mrs. Lobjoit will make some fresh
coffee."

"Who's the other cup?"

"Vereker. He came in to breakfast; to see if we were blown away."

"I see. Of course. Where