It struck her he had something on his mind.
"Not at the moment."
He came into the room slowly, his eyes roving about as if in search of something, now dwelling on the table, now on the mantelpiece, now on the Louis XV commode. Then in the same preoccupied manner he went out again.
"What an odd man!" Miss Clifford remarked with a smile. "You'd have thought it natural to ask how Roger came to cut his hand, wouldn't you?"
But Esther knew how little the insignificant detail of life interested Sartorius; his indifference no longer struck her as strange. Firmly she tied the last knot about Roger's wrist.
"You'll have to keep that on and try not to get it wet," she cautioned him.
"And how do you suggest I'm going to take a bath?"
"You'll have to manage with a shower, or else get Chalmers to rub you down like a horse," she told him gaily.
As she began putting away her rolls of gauze a thoughtful look came over her face.
"You know, I wonder if the doctor did want something? I shouldn't like to offend him."