“You are liable to become dizzy out here and meet with an accident,” he pursued. “If you should fall—well, you know what that would mean. It is remarkable that you should come out here.”
“The air,” she murmured, in a hoarse, husky voice. “The car was stifling, and I needed the air. I felt ill in there.”
“All the more reason why you should not come out here,” declared Frank, solicitously. “You could have had a window opened, and that would have given you air.”
“The window stuck.”
“It must be some of them would open. If you will return, I’ll endeavor to find you a seat by an open window.”
“Very kind of you,” she said, in the same peculiar, husky voice. “Think I’ll stay out here. Don’t mind me.”
“Then I trust you will permit me to remain, and see that you do not meet with any misfortune?”
“No. Go! Leave me! I had rather remain alone.”
She seemed like a middle-aged lady. He observed that her clothes fitted her ill, and her hands were large and awkward. She attempted to hide them.
All at once, with a suddenness that staggered him, the truth burst on Frank.