“I have been ‘Bellforded’ so often,” I said, “that it has lost its
edge. Still, in the end, it may grow wearisome. Would you be willing at
all to entertain the hypothesis that my name is Edward Pinkhammer, and
that I never saw you before in my life?”
Before the man could reply a wailing cry came from the woman. She
sprang past his detaining arm. “Elwyn!” she sobbed, and cast herself
upon me, and clung tight. “Elwyn,” she cried again, “don’t break my
heart. I am your wife—call my name once—just once. I could see you dead
rather than this way.”