Mr. Keller cleared a space near the fire, and elaborately arranged a second screen, which June did not fail to notice was decorated with nude figures.
"There you are," he said. "That'll keep you snug. And if you sit on a stool by the fire with a rug over your knees, you'll be as warm as a kitten."
June paled, but she did not speak.
"Begin as soon as you like, the sooner the better. Are you quite sure you won't have just a spot?" Again he pointed to the bottle on the table. "You look as if you want a drop of something."
Once more June declined the offer in a voice which in her own ear seemed absurdly small and faint.
"Pity," said Mr. Keller cheerfully, as he looked at her. "It'd put some life in you." And then, as she was still inert, he went on in a tone which pleasantly mingled gentlemanliness and business, "I always pay a sovereign an hour, you know—for the altogether."
A light of fear came into June's large eyes. "Does it mean," she asked, shyly and awkwardly, as she looked away from him, "that I shall have to take off my clothes?"
"Why, of course," he said, matter-of-factly. Her obvious embarrassment was not lost upon him, but the knowledge did not appear in his manner.
June shivered slightly. In that shiver a deep instinct spoke for her. "I couldn't do that," she said.
