you do, Jack.
But what do you remember?"

"In faith, my dear, the most Bedlamitish occurrences! It is a night
that breeds deplorable insanities, I warn you. For I seem to remember
how I sat somewhere, under a peach-tree, in clear autumn weather, and
was content; but the importance had all gone out of things; and even
you did not seem very important, hardly worth lying to, as I spoke
lightly of my wasted love for you, half in hatred, and--yes, still half
in adoration. For you were there, of course. And I remember how I
came to you, in a sinister and brightly lighted place, where a
horrible, staring frail old man lay dead at your feet; and you had
murdered him; and heaven did not care, and we were old, and all our
lives seemed just to end in futile tangle-work. And, again, I remember
how we stood alone, with visible death crawling lazily toward us, as a
big sullen sea rose higher and higher; and we little tinseled creatures
waited, helpless, trapped and yearning. . . . There is a boat in that
picture; I suppose it was deeply laden with pirates coming to slit our
throats from ear to ear. I have forgotten that part, but I remember
the tiny spot of courtplaster just above your painted lips. . . . Such
are the jumbled pictures. They are bred of brain-fag, no doubt; yet,
whatever be their lineage," said Charteris, happily, "they render glum
discussion and platitudinous moralizing quite out of the question. So,
let's pretend, Pauline, that we are not a bit more worldly-wise than
those youngsters who are frisking yonder in the Gymnasium--for, upon my
word, I dispute if we have ever done anything to suggest that we are.
Don't let's be cowed a moment longer by those bits of paper with
figures on them which our too-credulous fellow-idiots consider to be
the only almanacs. Let's have back yesterday, let's tweak the nose of
Time intrepidly." Then Charteris caroled:

"For Yesterday! for Yesterday!
I cry a reward for a Yesterday
Now lost or stolen or gone astray,
With all the laughter of Yesterday!"

"And how slight a loss was laughter," she murmured--still with the
vague and gentle eyes of a day-dreamer--"as set against all that we
never earned in youth, and so will never earn."

He inadequately answered "Bosh!" and later, "Do you remember----?" he
began.

Yes, she remembered that, it developed. And "Do you remember----?" she
in turn was asking later. It was to seem to him in retrospection that
neither