Surprised, then touched, I met the winning honesty of her gaze in silence.

“Unless you truly know me — unless you know to whom you give your friendship — you can not give it rightly. Can you, Euan? You must learn all that I am and have been, Is not this necessary?”

“I — I ask you nothing,” I stammered. “All that I know of you is wonderful enough — — ” Suddenly the danger of the moment opened out before me, checking my very thoughts.

She laid both hands against her temple, pressing them there till her cheeks cooled. So she pondered for a while, her gaze remote. Then, looking fearlessly at me:

“Euan, I am of that sad company of children born without name. I have lately dared to guess who was my father. Presently I will tell you who he was.”