This girl's uncommon
self-possession at close contact with him was a puzzle as well as a
pleasure. A little thing, to be sure, but it warmed Hollister. It was
like an unexpected gleam of sunshine out of a sky banked deep with
clouds.
Presently, to his surprise, the girl spoke to him.
"Are we getting near the Channel Islands?"
She was looking directly at him, and Hollister was struck afresh with
the curious quality of her gaze, the strangely unperturbed directness
of her eyes upon him. He made haste to answer her question.
"We'll pass between them in another mile. You can see the western
island a little off our starboard bow."
"I should be very glad if I could; but I shall have to take your word
for its being there."
"I'm afraid I don't quite understand."
A smile spread over her face at the puzzled tone.
"I'm blind," she explained, with what struck Hollister as infinite
patience. "If my eyes were not sightless, I shouldn't have to ask a
stranger about the Channel Islands. I used to be able to see them well
enough."
Hollister stared at her.
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