“Leave your things at the station?”
“Things? No, I didn’t bring any.”
“Well! I never!”
She shrugged her amazement away, his adventures being no business of hers.
After she had made the tea she removed her shoes and stockings and examined her ankle. It was inflamed and slightly swollen. She made him rub it, giving little gasps as he touched or wrenched the soreness.
“’Tisn’t a sprain? You don’t think it’s a sprain? I don’t care as long as it isn’t a sprain.”
“No, I shouldn’t think it’s a sprain; but you’d better ask someone else.”
“Are you Scotch?”
“No. Why do you ask?”