"How did you know?" she asked.
Dick took one of her hands again, in a strong, warm clasp. "A veil fell from my eyes," he said. "It fell from my eyes while she was singing, and I saw through the brown stain upon your skin, and saw all of the scattered pieces of the puzzle and how they fitted together, and everything was plain."
The girl let her hand remain in his and lay quietly back upon the cushions for a few minutes, and then she sat up and withdrew her hand and her head rose to its old proud poise. "I am going to tell you about it," she said.
"You need not," said Dick, quickly. "I have heard the story and I understand it all now. It will hurt you to live it over again."
"I want to tell you," she said, evenly, "and I would rather do it now. Otherwise, I shall live it over a hundred times while I am waiting to tell you."
"Go on," said Dick, gravely.
She was silent for a little while, evidently seeking for a starting point, and then she began. "My father had two daughters. One the daughter of his wife, the other the daughter of a sixteen year old Hawaiian girl who died when the child was born. We were very nearly of the same age and we both looked like him excepting that I, the daughter of his wife, had, with his dark eyes and thick, fair hair, my mother's white skin. My half-sister had the same dark eyes
