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 “Margaret.”

She looked at him quietly. He might have been someone she had never set eyes on, and yet from her composure she might have expected him to be standing there.

“Margaret, don’t you know me?”

“What do you want?” she answered placidly.

He was so taken aback that he did not know what to say. She kept gazing at him steadfastly. On a sudden her calmness vanished, and she sprang to her feet.

“Is it you really?” she cried, terribly agitated. “I thought it was only a shape that mimicked you.”

“Margaret, what do you mean? What has come over you?”

She stretched out her hand and touched him.

“I’m flesh and blood all right,” he said, trying to smile.

She shut her eyes for a moment, as though in an effort to collect herself.

“I’ve had hallucinations lately,” she muttered. “I thought it was some trick played upon me.”

Suddenly she shook herself.

“But what are you doing here? You must go. How did you come? Oh, why won’t you leave me alone?”

“I’ve been haunted by a feeling that something horrible was going to happen to you. I was obliged to come.”

“For God’s sake, go. You can do me no good. If he finds out you’ve been here—”