‘How dared you?’ he repeated. He shook her again to hasten her answer.
But she only said ‘I think you’re mad,’ and caught her breath.
He saw he was wetting the shoulders of her pretty pink tea-gown with his coat and took his hands away.
The genuine surprise on her face disarmed him a little, it even occurred to him for the first time that he might have the inexpressible relief of finding he was mistaken.
His eyes grew a shade quieter and he did not speak for a minute.
In the brief interval wifely concern appeared on Dot’s face. She put her hand on his wet sleeve and tried to move him towards the hall.
‘Come and get dry things,’ she said, ‘how wet you are!’
But he would not stir.
‘I want to speak to you,’ he said.
‘When you are dry,’ urged Dot, ‘it can wait three minutes.’