The children were playing in the library, and Muriel was walking with her governess on the wide piazza.
While Salome was trying by the aid of fingers and teeth to draw a strip of linen tightly over her wound, a tap at the door startled her.
“I am engaged, and can see no one just now.”
“Salome, I want to speak to you, and shall wait here until I do.”
“Excuse me, Dr. Grey. I will come down in ten minutes.”
“Pardon me, but I insist upon seeing you here, and hope you will not compel me to force the door open.”
She wrapped a towel around her arm, drew down her sleeve, and opened the door.
“To what am I indebted for the honor of this interview?”
“To my interest in your welfare, which cannot be baffled. Salome, what is the matter? You looked so pale that I noticed you particularly, and saw the blood on the table-cloth. My dear child, I will not be trifled with. Tell me where you are hurt.”