She obeyed.
"Look at that," he commanded her, pointing to the scene of which the window was the frame.
She obeyed. She also looked at him with her dark, passionate, and yet half-mocking eyes.
"Yes," she said, "and who's going to make that trunk lock?"
She snapped her fingers at the sweet morning influences of Nature, to which he was peculiarly sensitive. And yet he was delighted. He found it entirely delicious that she should say, when called upon to admire Nature: "Who's going to make that trunk lock?"
He stroked her hair.
"It's no use trying to keep your hair decent at the seaside," she remarked, pouting exquisitely.
He explained that his hand was offering no criticism of her hair. And then there was a knock at the bedroom door, and Olive Two jumped a little away from her husband.
"Come in," he cried, pretending to be as bold as a lion.
However, he had forgotten that the door was locked, and he had to go and open it.