"My friend, Paul."

"Jacqueline, I am going to take you home," I said, hoping that she
would tell me something, but I dared ask her no more. I meant to take
her to Quebec and make inquiries there. Thus I hoped to learn
something of her, even if the sight of the town did not awaken her
memories.

"I am going to take you home, Jacqueline," I repeated.

"Yes, Paul," she answered in that docile manner of hers.

"It is lucky you have your furs, because the winter is cold where your
home is."

"Yes, Paul," she repeated as before, and a few more probings on my part
convinced me that she remembered nothing at all. Her mind was like a
person's newly awakened in a strange land. But this state brought with
it no fear, only a peaceful quietude and faith which was very touching.

"We have forgotten a lot of things that troubled us, haven't we, Paul?"
she asked me presently. "But we shall not care, since we have each
other for friends. And afterwards perhaps we shall pick them up again.
Do you not think so, Paul?"

"Yes, Jacqueline," I answered.

"If we remembered now the memory of them might make us unhappy," she
continued wistfully. "Do you not think so, Paul?"