“What friend?”
“That,” said Miss Gale, “I will tell you by-and-by. You are in good hands, and I am your physician.”
“I have heard your voice before,” said Ina, “but I know not where; and it is so dark! Why is it so dark?”
“Because too much light is not good for you. You have met with an accident.”
“What accident, madam?”
“You fell and hurt your poor forehead. See, I have bandaged it, and now you must let me wet the bandage—to keep your brow cool.”
“Thank you, madam,” said Ina, in her own sweet but queenly way. “You are very good to me. I wish I could see your face more clearly. I know your voice.” Then, after a silence, during which Miss Gale eyed her with anxiety, she said, like one groping her way to the truth, “I—fell—and—hurt—my forehead?—Ah!”
Then it was she uttered the cry that made Vizard quake at the door, and shook for a moment even Rhoda's nerves, though, as a rule, they were iron in a situation of this kind.
It had all come back to Ina Klosking.
After that piteous cry she never said a word. She did nothing but think, and put her hand to her head.