"Oh, I'm so sorry," answered Miss Smith contritely. "But please believe me—it was not mere cheap inquisitiveness that made me look."
"I think I know," said the girl softly. "You were sorry. And it doesn't matter much—your seeing. Somehow I don't mind your seeing."
"But I haven't really seen—I only caught a glimpse. And I'm afraid now that I've been pressing too closely against your side; perhaps giving you pain by touching your arms."
"My arms are not hurting me," said the girl, still with that queer ghost of a smile at her lips. "I've not been hurt or injured in any way."
"Not hurt? Then why—"
She choked the involuntary question even as she was framing it.
"This—this has been done, I suppose, to keep me from hurting anyone else."
"But—but I don't understand."
"Don't you—yet? Then lift a fold of my wrap—carefully, so no one else can see while you are looking. I'd rather you did," she continued, seeing how Miss Smith hesitated.
"But I am a stranger to you. I don't wish to pry. I——"