“You are pretending. Answer my question.”
With closed eyes he pondered aloud. “If she shaved me, her hands would touch my face. They would caress my cheeks, softly–”
Virginia blushed. “I wouldn’t touch your face for–for–anything,” she interrupted.
“How would you shave me then? Who ever heard of a barber who did not touch the face of the people he shaved?”
“I won’t do the shaving. I’ll bring the hot water. It will be scalding hot, too,” she promised.
“Coward,” he taunted her, “to scald a man with three ribs and a leg broken.”
She gave him a very friendly look for one supposed to harbor such brutal intentions; but as he referred to his injuries the fun died out of her face. “It is unfair for you to suffer while I bear no part of the punishment for my own thoughtlessness.” Her lips trembled.
Joe reached over and patted her hand. “It was my own fault, I tell you,” he argued. “I am all hunky dory now, anyway.”
“I know that my father would be glad to help you. Won’t you let him, please?” she begged.
“I want no help.” His reply was brusque. “I am able to take care of myself.”