But, being hidden from his view, my lady paused to glance at her wrists, flushing as though she felt his lips there yet; and finding she still held his scabious flower, tossed it angrily away, but, marking where it fell, took it up again, and having throned it amid the laces of her bodice, went her way, slow of foot and with eyes a-dream.
CHAPTER XXXIII
WHICH, AMONG OTHER SMALL MATTERS, TELLETH OF A SNUFF-BOX
And now ensued days wherein Sir John seemingly idled, the Corporal took mysterious journeys both a-horse and afoot, and my Lady Herminia busied herself upon Sir Hector’s comfort; for, having visited his cottage and being horrified by his ideas of “homeliness,” she prepared for immediate action—that is to say, with lovely head tied up in a kerchief (laced cap, ringlets and all) against such accidentals as spiders, cobwebs and dust, she armed herself with a mop and Mr. William Thompson with soap, water and scrubbing-brush, and forthwith set about cleansing the Augean Stables.
Accoutred thus, she was directing the floor-washing operations of Mr. Thompson in the small, tiled kitchen when Sir Hector ventured to open the door, whereupon Mr. Thompson, hitherto awed to dumb submission by my lady’s imperious presence, cast down his scrubbing-brush and lifted his voice in wailing protest:
“Sir ’Ector—O Sir ’Ector, will ’ee look at oi! She’s ’ad me ’ere on me knees, a-scrubbin’ an’ a-sloshin’, this hower an’ more, she ’ave! On me marrer-bones, sir! Crool it be! Sir ’Ector, if you ’ave an ’eart, say a word for oi!”
“William Thompson,” quoth my lady, “William Thompson—scrub.”
“Sir ’Ector—say a word!”
“Losh, Wully man, whaur’ll be the use? Ye ken vera weel ’tis no fau’t o’ mine. Ye ken vera weel I lo’e tae be hamely——”
“Sir Hector—silence!” commanded my lady.