“Never mind for the moment why you’ve come, Miss Purvis; the great thing is that you have come. Tea first: explanation afterwards. If you take my advice you’ll let that be the order of procedure. Nothing like a good brew to promote clarity of exposition.”
I lit the stove.
“Mr. Paine! Mr. Paine!”
She jumped off the couch in quite a passion of excitement.
“Now, Miss Purvis, I do beg you will control yourself. I give you my word that in less than five minutes the water will be boiling.”
She stamped her foot; rage certainly became her.
“You keep talking about your tea, when Pollie’s killed!”
“Killed—Miss Purvis! You don’t mean that Miss Blyth is—killed?”
“She is!—or something awful—and worse!”
“But”—I placed the kettle on the stove to free my hand—“let me understand you plainly. Do you wish to be taken literally when you say that Miss Blyth is—killed?”