"But no one will see you here."
"Are you sure?"
"Quite sure. Why are you so afraid of the Miss Fennells?"
She began a nervous interlacing of her fingers.
"Am I afraid of them?" she asked, ingenuously.
"You are—but why?"
"I owe them so much—they've been so good to me. And they'd be angry if they knew I had been seen without my veil."
"Why would they be angry?"
I found myself speaking to her again in whispers, as you speak to a little child in the dark to wile away those first few frightening moments after the candle has been blown out.
"Why should they be angry?" I repeated.