“How red the burn looks!” remarked Cicely. She could see that her mother was not only grateful to the doctor, but pleased with the man. Lady Selina murmured approval.
“Your touch is as light as a woman’s. What are you using?”
“Picric acid solution.”
She never winced as he dressed the burn. Her tones were as light as his touch:
“Dear me! You were going to dine with us this evening! And I had ordered such a nice little dinner.”
Behind Lady Selina a French window opened upon the lawn, which faced the village green. Through this window floated noises culminating in cheers.
“Please shut that window,” commanded Grimshaw.
“Please don’t,” said the Lady of the Manor. “The atmosphere of this room is slightly oppressive. I suppose the dear souls are cheering me.”
“Safety-pin, Miss Chandos.”
The parson entered, blandly beaming.