“No. It’s musty.” She wrinkled a dainty nose. “Can’t we talk here? I love the feel of the air and the wet. And the world! I’m glad I wasn’t killed.”
“So am I,” he said soberly.
“When my brain wouldn’t work quite right yesterday, I thought that some one had hit me. That isn’t so, is it?”
“No. Your train was wrecked. You were injured. In the confusion you must have run away.”
“Yes. I remember being frightened. Terribly frightened. I’d never been that way before. Outside of that one idea of fear, everything was mixed up. I ran until I couldn’t run any more and dropped down.”
“And then?”
“I got up and ran again. Have you ever been afraid?”
“Plenty of times.”
“I hadn’t realized before that there was anything in the world to be afraid of. But the thought of that blow, coming so suddenly from nowhere, and the fear that I might be struck again—it drove me.” She flung out her hands in a little desperate gesture that twitched at Banneker’s breath.
“You must have been out all night in the rain.”’