“Granddad Smith told me when I was very little”⁠—the voice in which the child said this was low and restrained, and her words came slowly⁠—“that⁠ ⁠… Miss Malakite⁠ ⁠… was⁠ ⁠… a⁠ ⁠… leper.” Having overcome the difficulty of her confession, her expression became entirely different. She seemed as relieved to have brought this thing into the light as if she’d pulled a thorn from her hand.

“But, Olwen darling”⁠—Wolf spoke with as much intensity as if he were addressing an intelligence equal to his own⁠—“your grandfather didn’t mean a real leper! He meant that people shunned Christie because of her father⁠ ⁠… because of her father’s bad character.”

The child’s eyes opened wide. “Then Miss Malakite is not a leper at all? Not all white and horrid under her clothes?”

“Of course not! She’s sweet and lovely under her clothes⁠ ⁠… just as you are!”