"Doctor, she wants to know what it was you tried to make her forget."

"What would you say if I told you it was an old love affair?" replied the
doctor, coolly.

"I should say that you were rather impertinent," answered Madeline,
looking at him somewhat haughtily.

"I beg your pardon. I beg your pardon, my dear. You do well to resent it,
but I trust you will not be vexed with an old gentleman," replied the
doctor, beaming on her from under his bushy eyebrows with an expression
of gloating benevolence.

"I suppose, doctor, you were only trying to plague me so as to confuse
me," she said, smiling. "But you can't do it. I shall remember presently.
It began with 'H'--I am almost sure of that. Let's see--Harrington,
Harvard. That's like it."

"Harrison Cordis, perhaps," suggested the doctor, gravely.

"Harrison Cordis? Harrison? Harrison?" she repeated, contracting her
eyebrows thoughtfully; "no, it was more like Harvard. I don't want any
more of your suggestions. You'd like to get me off the track."

The doctor left the room, laughing, and Henry said to her, his heart
swelling with an exultation which made his voice husky, "Come, dear, we
had better go now: the train leaves at four."

"I'll remember yet," she said, smiling at him with a saucy toss of the
head. He put out his arms and she came into them, and their lips met in a