"Oh, I know! aren't they awful?" said Camilla. "You mean the sort you have to twist round, to cut that stupid tin-stuff? Have you put anything on it? You ought to paint it with iodine, you know. I have a friend who got a septic hand through just that sort of thing. Do let me look at it!"
"It's nothing," Guest said, pulling down his cuff.
Fay had opened her eyes. "Stephen, have you really hurt yourself? Do please put something on it! Let me see!
Guest drank his cocktail and set the glass down again. "Shucks, Fay! as we say out west. It's only a scratch."
Mrs. Twining glanced at her watch. "Fay, my dear, it is very nearly one o'clock, and high time Arthur was made to emerge from his monk-like seclusion. I will take my courage in both hands and beard him in his den." She rose as she spoke, smiled reassuringly at Fay's doubtful look, and went into the house.
Stephen Guest moved over to a chair beside Dinah. "I gather she means to try her hand on Arthur?" he said in an undertone.
"Yes, that's why she came," Dinah replied. "Heroic attempt, but I don't myself think she'll get much change out of him."
"No, I should say she wouldn't," said Guest in his deliberate way.
Mrs. Twining was not absent for long. In little more than five minutes she had returned, and stood in the window, very white and breathing unevenly. "Fay… Mr. Guest… !"
Guest got up quickly, looking at her with narrowed ryes. "Is anything the matter, Mrs. Twining? You look kind of queer."