Many and many a fall had both Kitty and Boris had in the wild expeditions and daring feats which they performed in each other's company. Kitty knew of the fall which stings; of the fall which shakes you all over, which raises a great bump and causes great soreness of the injured part; she knew of the fall which scratches and even renders you giddy; but she had never before seen the effects of such a serious fall as poor Nora's.
Friar's Wood was a very lonely place, and when, in utter exhaustion and pain, Nora closed her eyes, poor Kitty felt almost as if she were sitting alone in this great solitude with a person who was dead.
Oh, suppose pretty Nora was dead. Pretty Nora, who had been so mocking and full of life only ten minutes ago. If this were the case, to her dying day Kitty would feel that she had killed her by tempting her on to a rotten bough. It was terrible, terrible to be here alone with Nora, who might be going to die. Why could not she slip away and fetch someone to her aid?
Nora had clutched a very tight hold of Kitty's hand when first the little girl had proposed to fetch her mother, but now, in the kind of torpor of pain into which she had sunk, she relaxed the firm grip, and Kitty found that by a very gentle movement she could release her hand altogether.
She did so, and rose slowly to her feet.
Nora felt the movement and spoke.
"Kitty."
"Yes."
"You're not going away?"