Mary Roberts Rinehart

“ The doctor shook his head.
“Not yet. Just leave him alone for a while. Keep the children out and everything quiet. Above all, don't excite or contradict him. If he says you are not his wife, let it go at that.”
She looked after the doctor's retreating figure, her patient eyes dismayed and troubled. She longed to go in and take her rightful place in the sick-room, but with her hand on the knob her courage failed her. ”

“ He drew his hand away, and the woman, burying her face in the pieced counterpane, fell to sobbing. A baby wailed fretfully in an adjoining room, and after a long, heart-broken look at the set, unbending face of her husband, she groped her way blindly through the door.
Left alone, the man lay quiet, only the clenching and unclenching of his hands betraying the storm of emotion that shook him. His eyes wandered over the room, ever seeking some familiar object, some link to connect him with the past. ”

“ As the door closed behind her the man opened his eyes and turned around. Raising himself on his elbow, he looked with careful scrutiny at each object in the room—at the cheap furniture, the wallpaper, the gun over the mantel, even the suit of clothes which hung from a nail on the door. ”