"
Priscilla uttered a faint, rueful laugh.
"Perhaps you couldn't, Froggy," she admitted. "But you know there is
such a thing as loving at first sight. Some people go so far as to say
that all true love begins that way."
She rose quietly and went to her friend's side.
"Oh, Froggy, it's very difficult to be true to your inner self when you
stand quite alone," she said, "and every one else is thinking what a
fool you are!" The words had an unwonted ring of passion in them, and,
having uttered them, she knelt down by Froggy's side, and hid her face
against the ample shoulder. "And I sometimes think I'm a fool myself,"
she ended, in muffled accents.
Froggy's arms closed instantly and protectingly around her.
"My darling, who is it, then?" whispered her motherly voice.
Priscilla did not at once reply. It was a difficult confidence to make.
At last, haltingly, words came:
"It was years ago--that summer we went to New York, Dad and I. He was
from the South, so I heard afterwards. He stayed at the same hotel with
us, one of those quiet, unobtrusive, big men--not big physically,
but--you understand. I might not have noticed him--I don't know--but one
day a man in the street threw down a flaming match just as I was coming
out of the hotel. I had on a muslin dress, and it caught fire. Of
course, it blazed in a moment, and I was terrified. Dad wasn't there.
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