He strode across the room and set foot upon a huge, ungainly leather ball. It seemed but the merest touch that he gave. Nevertheless the ball left that spot hurriedly, rolled across to Darcy and encountered her shins with an impact that all but crumpled her flabby legs beneath her.
“Know what that is?” demanded the trainer.
“I’m afraid I don’t.”
“Medicine-ball. Little pill. You’ll like the little pill.”
Prophetic voices within Darcy told her that this was improbable: but she mildly assented. The pulley-weights were next called to her attention and identified.
“What do I do with them?” she inquired with a proper show of interest.
“Pull ’em up.”
“I see. And then what?”
“Let ’em down.”
It seemed to Darcy a profitless procedure, but she wisely refrained from saying so, and was glad that she did when Mr. Dunne added in a tone which emphasized the importance of the transaction: