When the water had been brought Lucile dampened her handkerchief and laid it icy cold on the other’s forehead. Almost instantly the eyes opened and the girl, having dragged herself to a sitting position, stared about the museum.
“Wha—where am I?” she asked. “What has happened?”
“You’re in the Art Museum. You fainted.”
“Faint—fainted!” There was terror in her eyes.
“It was the cold. It’s nothing, really nothing.” Lucile put a steadying arm about her. “You’ll be quite all right in a moment.”
“Now where is that brother of hers?” grumbled the guard. “He’s nowhere to be seen! He’s gone!”
“Gone?” echoed Lucile.
“Brother?” said the girl in astonishment. “I have no brother. I am alone.”
Such a wave of feeling swept over Lucile as made her sick and faint. She had been right, dreadfully right. She had saved this girl, this wonderful creature, from—she dared not think from what.
For a moment, rocked by her emotions, she sat there in silence. At last, with a supreme effort, she dragged herself to her feet.