“But why so?” I asked. “You are not fit to go out to-day, it is so cold.”
“But the cold will revive me. Feel my hand; my pulse beats so fast.”
I took her hand; her little pulse was bounding in her slender wrist.
“I am sure you ought not to go out; indeed, you can’t.” She looked up at me imploringly. Suddenly she burst out crying.
“Oh Riki,” I said, “what is the matter?”
“If you don’t help me I shall be the most miserable girl in all the world,” she said. “And it is all your fault, too.”
“My fault?” I cried. “Why, Riki, you must be mad. Whatever have I done?”
“Well, you have told me about your so wonderful English customs, and I have been taking them to my heart; and there is Heinrich—”
“Who is Heinrich—your brother?”
She stared at me, but made no reply.