"Why, of course," he answered, "there are your feet, so slender and shapely—"
"In these frightful old shoes!" she added.
"Worn out mostly in other peoples' service," he nodded. "God bless them!"
"They let the wet in horribly when it rains!" she sighed.
"So heaven send us dry weather! Then there is your wonderful hair," he continued, "so long and soft and—"
"And all bunched up anyhow!" said she, touching the heavy, shining braids with tentative fingers. "Please don't say any more, Mr. Geoffrey, because I just know I look a sight—I feel it! And in this old gown too—it's the one I keep to scrub the floors in—"
"Scrub the floors?" he repeated.
"Why, of course, floors must be scrubbed, and I've had plenty—oh, plenty of experience—now what are you thinking?"
"That a great many women might envy you that gown for the beauty that goes with it. You are very beautiful, you know, Hermione."
"And beauty in a woman is—everything, isn't it?" she said a little bitterly and with head suddenly averted.