aunt's hands and pulled them quickly from her head, tearing out the
hair entangled in the ring by the roots.

"I can't stand it, Auntie. I have never been able to bear anyone
touching my head," she said very quietly.

"I think you're insane at times, Leonie, _really_ I do!"

The terrible words were out, and for one long moment the two women
stared into each other's eyes.

"You think I am insane at times," whispered Leonie. "_You_--Auntie,
_you_ think I am _insane_!"

And the elder woman, floundering in dismay at the awful effect of her
unconsidered words, sank to her neck in a bog of explanation.

"No! Leonie--no, of course not--I wasn't thinking--of _course_ you're
not mad--insane I mean. What an idea! only I am worried about you, you
know that, don't you, dear! _Do_ be sensible, dear. Of course your
brain is not _quite_ normal. It can't be with all that sleep-walking,
can it, and all your abnormally brilliant exams!"

Susan Hetth's disjointed remarks sounded like the clatter of a pair of
runaway mules, while Leonie clasped her hands tight as she sat crouched
on her stool.

"Of course people _will_ talk, you know, dear! They did when you were
quite a baby and began walking in your sleep. And they did, you know,
at school after that unfortunate child nearly got strangled by her