I locked both my arms round her waist and kissed her lips into silence. A knock at the door made me spring to my feet. Viola remained where she was, unmoved, and said, "Come in."
A trim-looking maid came in with rather round eyes fixed open to see all she could. She had a can of hot water in her hand.
"Please, mum, I thought you'd like some hot water."
"Very much," returned Viola calmly. "Thank you."
The maid very slowly crossed the room to the washing-stand and set the can in the basin, covering it with a towel with elaborate care and deliberateness, looking at Viola out of the corners of her eyes as she did so.
"Please, m'm, when your luggage comes shall I bring it up?"
"Yes, do please, bring it up at once," replied Viola, and the girl slowly withdrew, shutting the door in the same lengthy manner after her.
Viola got up and crossed to the glass. She took off her hat and smoothed back her hair with her hand. Each time she did so, the light rippled exquisitely over its shining waves.
"I wonder if I ought to wash my face?" she remarked, looking in the glass; "does it look dusty?"
"Not in the least," I said, studying the pink and white reflection in the glass over her shoulder.