Doris could not answer; it was impossible for her to utter a single word.
“What do you want so late?” Maira said again, this time with a touch of impatience.
Doris forced herself to control her voice.
“The key....” she stammered, “I want to get the key.”
“Why?”
“The night-lamp has gone out, and I want to light it at the neighbor’s.”
“Simpleton, you can light it from Clytie’s. It is shining on the pillars outside.”
This was unanswerable—Doris thought her cause lost. But the very magnitude of the danger forced her to calm herself. She drew a long breath, and once more felt in possession of her wits. She would have the key. And all the resolution and defiance that exist in a firm determination suddenly filled her soul so completely that, heedless whether she roused Xenocles or not, she went straight to her goal.
“But I must have the key,” she replied in a tone that sounded cold and strange in her own ears, “I want to pour out the bath-water.”
“Let it stand till morning.”