His eyes blinked around like the flash of lightning but there was no place to hide. He stepped across the oaken chest and crouched down. Behind him, from the floor upwards, were books, in front was the big chest, and on top of it the two bulging sacks. He was well screened and he could peep between the sacks.
He stared towards the door.
The clean man came in and stood aside. Following him came a woman who was, if anything, more rigorously washed than he was. Somehow, although she was a tall woman, she seemed as light as a feather. She was clad in a delicate pink gown of such gossamer quality that it balanced and swam on the air with every movement she made. Across her bare shoulders was a lawn veiling, which also sailed and billowed as she moved. Her hair seemed to be of the finest spun gold, light as thistle-down, and it, too, waved and floated in little strands and ringlets.
These two people sat down at different sides of the table, and for a time they did not speak to each other. Then the man raised his head:
"I got a letter from your mother this morning," said he in a low voice.
The woman answered him in a tone that was equally low:
"I did not know you corresponded with her."
The man made a slight gesture:
"Nor did I know that your correspondence was as peculiar as I have found it," said he.
Said the woman coldly: