"Yes," he said, "get strong. I have had funny dreams," he added, still keeping his eyes on her face. "I get funny dreams now occasionally,-- when I'm awake. That's strange, isn't it? Why do I dream when I am awake?" "That is only weakness," she replied gently. "Now I am here you won't dream any more." "No," he said, and seemed satisfied with her reply. "I've thought sometimes you were dead," he said; "but you aren't." He stroked her hand softly. "I'm glad you're all right, Pam." His eyes, still puzzled, still striving vainly to recall facts which seemed to hover on the borderland of memory, and which always eluded him, wandered from her face, wandered aimlessly about the room, and came back to her face again with the same perplexed, inquiring look which was so difficult to meet. She felt that she wanted to push away the hand that so loosely held hers, wanted to get upon her feet and rush from the room,--away from the haunting sight of the grey, drawn face, and the insistent, puzzled eyes,--away from the presence of this man who seemed like a stranger to her, between whom and herself there yet existed an ugly and dishonouring bond. She controlled herself with a great effort and continued talking soothingly to him, obeying mechanically the will power that had governed her actions throughout. But how much the effort cost her, only she, herself, could ever realise. While she stayed there with him, listening to his thick, disconnected utterances, and replying with a gentleness born of pity only, it seemed to her that something within her, something that was vital and necessary to the appreciation of life, died utterly, and left her apathetic and indifferent, a woman denuded of all the best warm impulses of the heart. The best of herself was dead; there only remained the dull, unloving semblance of her former self. CHAPTER THIRTY TWO. On leaving Arnott's room, when comforted by her presence he fell asleep and so freed her from the painful necessity of remaining beside him, Pamela returned swiftly to the waiting-room, where Dare was, and, entering, closed the door behind her, and stood leaning against it, with her hand on the knob, as though fearful that if she released it some one might intrude upon them, might perhaps induce her to return to the room from which, as soon as she had seen he slept, she had fled in cautious haste. Her face was flushed, her eyes were bright and hard, and her breath came with painful quickness, in short, spasmodic gasps. Dare looked at her in some concern, and advancing, stood close to her, and laid his hand upon her sleeve. "Don't excite yourself," he said. "Sit down, Pamela. There's no hurry. Get a grip on yourself." She laughed shrilly. And the next moment she was crying, holding to his arm, and weeping on his shoulder. "I'm a fool," she sobbed, "a fool... I don't know why I'm crying. Please, don't take any notice of me. I'll be all right in a minute."