"Do you think so? Then of course I'll take it off."
She removed her cloak, with my assistance. I flung it over the back of a chair.
"You will find water there with which to wash your hands and face."
Again she eyed me with that suggestion of surprise.
"Why should I wash my hands and face?"
"There is blood upon them."
"Blood?" She held out her hands with her former gesture. "So there is. I had forgotten. I cannot think how it came there." Her cheeks assumed an added tinge of pallor. "Will it come off if I wash them?"
It seemed impossible to doubt that it was seriously asked; yet the apparent puerility of the question stung me to a brusque response.
"We will hope that soap and water will at least, remove the outward and visible stain."
Turning, I went into my dressing-room, she following me with her eyes. There I hastily donned some more conventional attire. Thence, passing into the dining-room, I called to her through the bedroom door.
"When you are ready, may I ask you to come in here. We shall be more at our ease."
She did not keep me waiting, but appeared
