‘what’s this?’ asked Joe, taking the hand tenderly and pulling at some white strands beneath the bandages.
‘It’s something soft,’ said Delia, ‘that had oil on it. Oh, Joe, did you sell another sketch?’ She had seen the money on the table.
‘Did I’ said Joe. ‘Just ask the man from Peoria. He got his Depot to-day, and he isn’t sure but he thinks he wants another parkscape and a view on the Hudson. What time this afternoon did you burn your hand, Dele?’
‘Five o’clock, I think,’ said Dele plaintively. ‘The iron-I mean the rabbit came of the fire about that time. You ought to have seen General Pinkney, Joe, when-’
‘Sit down here a moment, Dele,’ said Joe. He drew her to the couch, sat down beside her and put his arm across her shoulders.
‘What have you been doing for the last two weeks, Dele?’ he asked.