“Are you?” he reflected a moment. “No,” he answered truthfully, “I don’t see that you are.” He turned his face aside. He was afraid now, because he felt dazed, and felt dimly that her power was stronger than his, in this issue. And she continued to look at him fixedly all the time. “Can you tell me where I shall find some dry things to put on?” he asked.
“Did you dive into the pond for me?” she asked.
“No,” he answered. “I walked in. But I went in overhead as well.”
There was silence for a moment. He hesitated. He very much wanted to go upstairs to get into dry clothing. But there was another desire in him. And she seemed to hold him. His will seemed to have gone to sleep, and left him, standing there slack before her. But he felt warm inside himself. He did not shudder at all, though his clothes were sodden on him.
“Why did you?” she asked.
“Because I didn’t want you to do such a foolish thing,” he said.
“It wasn’t foolish,” she said, still gazing at him as she lay on the floor, with a sofa cushion under her head. “It was the right thing to do. I knew best, then.”
“I’ll go and shift these wet things,” he said. But still he had not the power to move out of her presence, until she sent him. It was as if she had the life of his body in her hands, and he could not extricate himself. Or perhaps he did not want to.
Suddenly she sat up. Then she became aware of her own immediate condition. She felt the blankets about her, she knew her own limbs. For a moment it seemed as if her reason were going. She looked round, with wild eye, as if seeking something. He stood still with fear. She saw her clothing lying scattered.
“Who undressed me?” she asked, her eyes resting full and inevitable on his face.