She has forgotten much; her memory is quite gone. How
much she does remember it is impossible to say."
His head fell; his brooding eyes were fixed again on the rug at his
feet. After a while he looked up.
"It is pitiful, Mr. Ruthven--she is so young--with all her physical
charm and attraction quite unimpaired. But the mind is gone--quite gone,
sir. Some sudden strain--and the tension has been great for years--some
abrupt overdraft upon her mental resource, perhaps; God knows how it
came--from sorrow, from some unkindness too long endured--"
Again he relapsed into his study of the rug; and slowly, warily, Ruthven
lifted his little, inflamed eyes to look at him, then moistened his dry
lips with a thick-coated tongue, and stole a glance at the locked door.
"I understand," said Selwyn, looking up suddenly, "that you are
contemplating proceedings against your wife. Are you?"
Ruthven made no reply.
"_Are_ you?" repeated Selwyn. His face had altered; a dim glimmer played
in his eyes like the reflection of heat lightning at dusk.
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