"Oh," said Pat thoughtfully, with a sense of relief. "Well, go on. What next?" "What are these dual personalities you read about in the papers?" "They're aphasias. An individual forgets his name, and he picks, or is given, another, if he happens to wander among strangers. He forgets much of his past experience; the second personality is merely what's left of the first--sort of a vestige of his normal character. There isn't any such thing as a dual personality in the sense of two distinct characters living in one body." "Isn't there?" queried the girl musingly. "Could the second personality have qualities that the first one lacked?" "Not any more than it could have an extra finger! The second is merely a split off the first, a forgetfulness, a loss of memory. It couldn't have _more_ qualities than the whole, or normal, character; it _must_ have fewer." "Isn't that just too interesting!" said Pat in a bantering tone. "All right, Dr. Carl. It's your turn." "Then what's the reason for all this curiosity about perversions and aphasias? What's happened to your genius now?" "Oh, I'm thinking of taking up the study of psychiatry," replied the girl cheerfully. "Aren't you going to answer me seriously?" "No." "Then what's the use of my asking questions?" "I know the right answer to that one. None!" "Pat," said Horker in a low voice, "you're an impudent little hoyden, and too clever for your own good, but you and your mother are very precious to me. You know that." "Of course I do, Dr. Carl," said the girl, relenting. "You're a dear, and I'm crazy about you, and you know that, too." "What I'm trying to say," proceeded the other, "is simply that I'm trying to help you. I want to help you, if you need help. Do you?" "I guess I don't, Dr. Carl, but you're sweet." "Are you in love with this Nicholas Devine?" "I think perhaps I am," she admitted softly. "And is he in love with you?" "Frankly, could he help being?" "Then there's something about him that worries you. That's it, isn't it?" "I thought there was, Dr. Carl. I was a little startled by the change in him right after we had that narrow escape, but I'm sure it was nothing--just imagination. Honestly, that's all that troubled me." "I believe you, Pat," said the Doctor, his eyes fixed on hers. "But guard yourself, my dear. Be sure he's what you think he is; be sure you know him rightly." "He's clean and fine," murmured the girl. "I _am_ sure." "But this puzzling yourself about his character, Pat--I don't like it. Make doubly sure before you permit your feelings to become too deeply involved. That's only common sense, child, not psychiatry or magic." "I'm sure," repeated Pat. "I'm not puzzled or troubled any more. And thanks, Dr. Carl. You run along to bed and I'll do likewise." He rose, accompanying her to the door, his face unusually grave.