“My dear Grace,” said she, “you look frightened. You are really growing nervy. And once I thought you were, as you look, a Brunhilde.” She leaned toward the girl, looking at her curiously. “And the mere idea of a woman engaging in such an adventure has frightened you.”
Miss Knowles shook her golden head and laughed. Her blue eyes were filled with amusement and the fear had vanished.
“I was trying to imagine myself in such a position. And I think the result was too vivid.”
But Mr. Scanlon seemed doubtful.
“I don’t think it was that,” spoke he, confidently. “It must have been something else. You’d go through such an adventure and never wink an eye.”
Miss Hohenlo clasped her hands with delicate satisfaction.
“Oh, Mr. Scanlon,” said she, “I’m delighted that you won’t permit Grace to think meanly of herself. For, when you’ve come to know her as I do, she is really a wonderful person.” Here the eyes of the two women met in a look so rapid that Scanlon was unable to interpret it. “You are quite right. I have the greatest faith in her courage, and what I said a few moments ago in doubt of it was merely a jest. Grace, you know, would really dare anything.”
“Oh, please, Miss Hohenlo,” said the girl, in protest.
“You would, my dear; you know you would. It would only require,” and here the faded eyes went from the beautiful face of Miss Knowles to the attentive one of Mr. Scanlon, “it would only require the necessity. Let that be sufficient,” said Miss Hohenlo, nodding quite positively, “and Grace would be equal to anything.”
“I wish,” said the girl, “what you say were true. For there are many such occasions,” and she smiled at Scanlon, “which arise and demand to be met. And I’m afraid I don’t do the work very well.”