"Here,—come closer,—turn this way. It's running down now. How did you hurt yourself?"
"Dame! It is nothing, ma'm'selle."
"Nothing! You are just black and blue!"
"Mostly black," said Fouchette. The world looked ever so much brighter.
"You've been fighting," suggested the young woman, tentatively.
"No, ma'm'selle."
"Then somebody struck you."
"Quite right, ma'm'selle."
This was delivered with such an air of nonchalance that the young lady smiled.
"You speak as if it were a common occurrence," she observed.