He went away with the last word on his lips, and five minutes later a woman entered the room. She looked like a typical jaileress, for she was tall, lean, rawboned and dark-faced.
She smiled when she saw Margie.
“Another one!” she grinned. “This one won’t give me much trouble. Why, she’s but a girl. And such hands, too! I wonder where he netted her?”
She went to work restoring Margie to consciousness, and in a short time succeeded.
At sight of her the young girl put forth her hands in pleading gesture, but when the light fell upon the woman’s face she shuddered and turned away.
“That’s right. I’m no beauty,” said the woman. “I’m no princess like the one in the fairy tale. They call me Nora, if you want to get acquainted with me. Call me Nora, nothing more.”
“But you’ve got another name?”
“Guess not! Nora’s good enough for me.”
“Then Nora, where am I?”
“In my house.”