curtain of fire and smoke and shrieking shells and dying groans, so
deep in the background of her memory were the people and events of her
merely personal life. One of the young women was very tall, with a slim
dashing figure, fine fair hair, keen cold gray eyes, a haughty nostril
and upper lip: a beauty of the patrician American type. The other was
shorter but also excessively thin, with dark dancing eyes, a warm color,
a coquettish nose and pouting lips--which somehow invoked the complacent
visage of the late Herr Graf Niebuhr--and a brilliant smile. In a moment
Gisela recognized Ann Howland Prentiss and Kate Terriss, now Mrs. Tolby.
This American friend of her childhood had married an American whose
business kept him in London, and her path and Gisela's had never crossed
since her finishing days in Berlin; although she had corresponded with
Lili for two or three years and knew the family history in vague
outline.

Gisela skated directly over to them and held out her hand to Kate. "It
is a long while," she said, "but perhaps you remember me--"

"Do I? Ann will not believe me--that you are Gisela von Niebuhr not
Döring. What a lark that was to run off to America and fool everybody! I
wish I had come across you. It would have been quite dramatic to tear
off the mask of the governess and reveal the junker. I think it was too
stupid of you, Ann, that you didn't guess."

"I noticed many inconsistencies," said Mrs. Prentiss dryly. She added,
holding out her hand with a charming smile: "But later, I was so proud
to have known Gisela Döring, that personal curiosity seemed impertinent.
How we have missed your writings these last dreadful years!"

Then all three began to talk at once and Gisela gathered that Mrs. Tolby