“We will let it go at that for the present.  You will be singing another tune when your Geoffrey Annersley comes up the Hill to claim you.”

The girl’s expressive face clouded over at that.  She did not quite dare to tell Doctor Holiday as she had his nephew that she did not want to see Geoffrey Annersley nor to have to know she was married to him.  It sounded horrid, but it was true.  Sometimes she hated the very thought of Geoffrey Annersley.

Later Doctor Holiday and his nephew went over the girl’s case together from both the personal and professional angles.  There was little enough to go on in untangling her mystery.  The railway tickets which had been found in her purse were in an un-postmarked envelope bearing the name Mrs. Geoffrey Annersley, but no address.  The baggage train had been destroyed by fire at the time of the accident, so there were no trunks to give evidence.  The small traveling bag she had carried with her bore neither initial nor geographical designation, and contained nothing which gave any clew as to its owner’s identity save that she was presumably a person of wealth, for her possessions were exquisite and obviously costly.  A small jewel box contained various valuable rings, one or two pendants and a string of matched pearls which even to uninitiated eyes spelled a fortune.  Also, oddly enough, among the rest was an absurd little childish gold locket inscribed “Ruth from Geoffrey.”

She had worn no rings at all except for a single platinum-set, and very perfect, diamond and a plain gold band, obviously a wedding ring.  The inference was that she was married and that her husband’s name was Geoffrey Annersley, but where he was and why she was traveling across the United States alone and from whence she had come remained utterly unguessable.  Larry had seen to it that advertisements for Geoffrey Annersley were inserted in every important paper from coast to coast but nothing had come of any of his efforts.

As for the strange lapse of memory, there seemed nothing to do but wait in the hope that recovered health and strength might bring it back.

“It may come bit by bit or by a sudden bound or never,” was Doctor Holiday’s opinion.  “There is nothing that I know of that she or you or any one can do except let nature take her course.  It is a case of time and patience.  I am glad you brought her to us.  Margery and I are very glad to have her.”

“You are awfully good, Uncle Phil.  I do appreciate it and it is great to have you behind me professionally.  I haven’t got a great deal of confidence in myself.  Doctoring scares me sometimes.  It is such a fearful responsibility.”

“It is, but you are going to be equal to it.  The confidence will come with experience.  You need have no lack of faith in yourself; I haven’t.  There is no reason why I should have, when I get letters like this.”

The senior doctor leaned over and extracted old Doctor Fenton’s letter from a cubby hole in his desk and gave it to his nephew to read.  The latter perused it in silence with slightly heightened color.  Praise always embarrassed him.