“Oh no; I have plenty of time, and there’s lots more that I could show you. I could tell you a good deal, too, that might amuse you: how the Egyptians used to embalm their mummies, and how an Assyrian king caused himself to be burnt with all his wives on a high pyre of scented boughs sooner than fall into the hands of an enemy. And how the Chinese hunt for musk; this is musk; it doesn’t smell nice in this state, but it’s very precious. This is attar of roses in this little bottle; smell very carefully. Let me hold it for you. Do you like my things?”
She liked his things very much.
“Do you think my room less untidy and dusty, now that you know there are other things in it besides dust and untidiness?”
“All those tins, full of sweet scents,” she said unexpectedly. “Only, I ought to go back to my work now, don’t you think? You said you would give me something to take to the forewoman.”
“But you said that wasn’t right.”
“No, perhaps it isn’t,—Oh, I see: you’re teasing me. Well, I’ll go without it.”
“But you’re frightened of being scolded?” he said, following her and laying his hand upon the handle of the door. “Now aren’t you? confess! What do you say when the forewoman is cross? Do you stand hanging your head and twisting your apron?” He was laughing down at her.
“She isn’t often cross, but she will be if I stay dawdling here,—oh, please, Mr. Morgan!”
He saw with astonishment that her eyes were suddenly brimming with tears, and her soft mouth quivered.
“You are dreadfully unkind, getting me into trouble and then teasing me about it,” she said, nearly crying, but trying to conceal it from him. “I enjoyed looking at the scents, and I forgot the time, but now it is all different, and I want to go away, please. Please take your hand off the door-handle,” she continued, trying to pull away his fingers with her weak ones.