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Politely sceptical, William drew from his pocket a bit of pumice stone.
"It is to take the soils out of your fingers," he said, offering this talisman shyly.
June's face was now a tawny scarlet. She did not know whether to laugh or to be angry. Yet how was it possible to be angry with a creature who was so charmingly absurd?
"May I take them out for you?"
The answer was "no."
But somehow her face must have said "yes." For without more ado, the amazing fellow took one of her hands and with nice discretion began to apply the pumice stone.
"There, now," he said finally.
A stern rebuke trembled upon her lips, yet with the best will in the world it could not find a form of words whereby to get itself uttered.
