Cicely entered first, in evident distress, holding her handkerchief to her eye.
“Oh, Dr. Pawley! How clever of you to come in the very nick of time!”
“What is it, my dear?”
“Some enormous beast—it feels as big as a bluebottle—is committing suicide in my eye. Please save its life and mine—quick!”
“Dear, dear! Where are my glasses?”
As he fumbled for his pince-nez, Grimshaw said promptly:
“Allow me, Miss Chandos. Your handkerchief, please.”
She smiled, gave him her handkerchief and held up her face. Very deftly Grimshaw extracted a midge, and exhibited it.
“There!”
“Where? Oh, yes. What a tiny thing.”