"Y--es. I've been there."

"What does he say?"

"That I must always wear a veil."

"Because it looks so bad?"

"I suppose so."

There was a silence. Priscilla lay back in her corner exhausted, and
shut her eyes. The mother stared fixedly at her, one hand mechanically
stroking Hans-Joachim, the other holding him down.

"When I was a girl," said the mother, so suddenly that Priscilla
started, "I had a good deal of trouble with my skin. Therefore my
experience on the subject is great. Show me your face, Fräulein--I
might be able to tell you what to do to cure it."

"Oh, on no account--on no account whatever," cried Priscilla, sitting
up very straight and speaking with extraordinary emphasis. "I couldn't
think of it--I really positively couldn't."

"But my dear Fräulein, why mind a woman seeing it?"

"But what do you want to see it for?"

"I wish to help you."