“I don’t think it would be a success,” she returned. “I don’t profit by discipline, I’m afraid. But,” she stood up, “I’m perfectly open minded. I’ll make a beginning. I’ll wash the dishes—just to please you.”
And then, with a clean towel, he deliberately dried her hands, finger by finger
He watched her go to the kitchen sink, and pour water from the steaming kettle into a dish pan, saw her turn up her lace-frilled cuffs, and begin with her long, slim, inefficient hands to take up the dirty plates. Suddenly, much to his surprise, he found he couldn’t bear it, couldn’t bear to see the lace fall down again and again, and her obvious shrinking from the task.
He crossed the room and took the plates from her, and then with a clean towel, he deliberately dried her hands, finger by finger, while she stood by like a docile child, looking up at him in wonder.
“Don’t you want to reform me?” she asked plaintively.
“No,” he answered shortly.
“Why not?”
“Because you would be too dangerous,” he returned. “Now you have every charm except goodness. If you turned good and gentle you’d be supreme.”