These words appeared to sink into Jael's mind: she put her hands to her head, and pondered them. Perhaps she might have replied to them, but Raby came down, and ordered her to her apartment.
She took a step or two in that direction, but presently drew back and would not move. “The women-folk! They'll see me on the stair, this figure.”
“Not they. They are all in bed.”
“Are they so? Then please let me go to the kitchen for a dry cloth or two.”
“What to do?”
“To dry the rug a bit. Just look—what a mess I've made!”
“I'll say it was the dog.”
“Will you, though? Oh, but you are a good friend to me this night. Then I'll go. Let me wring my gown a bit, not to mess the stairs as well.”
“No, no; I'll take all the blame. Will you go, or must the doctor and I carry you?”
“Nay, nay, there's no need. Your will is my pleasure, sir.”