“Stick out your foot,” ordered Dr. Strong. And, as she obeyed: “That’s well. Good, sensible storm shoes. I’ll risk your taking cold. How do you feel? Better?”
“No. Worse!” she snapped.
“I suppose so,” he retorted with a chuckle.
“What is more,” she declared savagely, “I look worse!”
“So your mirror has been failing in its mission of flattery. Too bad. Now take off your coat, sit right there by the fire, and in an hour you’ll be dry as toast.”
“An hour? I can’t stay an hour!”
“Why not?”
“It’s six o’clock. I must go home. Besides,” she added unguardedly, “I’m half starved.”
“Indeed! Had a cocktail to-day?”
“No. Certainly not.”