"I beg your pardon."
"Why should you beg my pardon?" she asked looking at him suspiciously.
"I really don't know," he acknowledged.
"I know that I am behaving like a hysterical schoolgirl. What must you think of me! But,—but I am just recovering from an illness and am still very nervous, and the mere mention of lunatics always upsets me. I have the greatest horror of them."
"Poor child, she must have been through some terrible experience with one," thought Crichton.
"I trust you may never meet any," he said aloud.
"I don't intend to." She spoke with unexpected vehemence.
"Well, there is not much chance of your doing so. Certified lunatics find it pretty difficult to mingle in general society."
"I know—oh, I know—" Her voice sounded almost regretful.
What an extraordinary girl! Could it be—was it possible that she herself—but no, her behaviour was certainly strange and she seemed hysterical, but mad—no, and yet that would explain everything.