"The worst of the wind is over," said Justin; "we were lucky to escape the heavy rain."
Bettina, who was braiding her hair, looked up at him. "Wasn't it wonderful down there in the wood?"
"Did you think it wonderful?"
Something in his eyes made her say, hastily "I've never been out in a storm before."
He did not reply at once. He was watching her slender fingers twist the shining strands.
"Let me do that for you," he said, suddenly.
"No, oh, no——"
"Why not?"
"Because." She walked away from him, and seated herself on a marble bench under one of the closed windows.
He sat down beside her. "I didn't mean that impertinently; truly I did not. I used to braid my little sister's hair. She was lame and I took care of her, and, as I watched you, I thought of—my little sister."