"The window-sill had cut me right across here," she pointed to the space just below her nose. "The doctor took five stitches, and when it healed, took them out again. It hurt very much, but I didn't cry a bit."
"Didn't it leave a scar on your face?"
She threw back her head.
"There, do you see that little white line under my nose? You can hardly see it now."
The boy examined the spot critically. Then he changed the subject. "Where did you live before you came here?"
"New York."
"Did you like it there?"
"No, it was horrid. I hated to be dressed up and sent for a walk."
He looked incredulous. "Most girls like to be dressed up."
"I don't."