She was bending over the stove, stirring a delicacy that required her
minute attention when there came a knock on the kitchen door.
She did not even turn her head as she responded to it. "Go away!" she
called. "I can't talk to anyone."
There was a pause--a speculative pause--during which Molly bent lower
over her saucepan and concluded that the intruder had departed.
Then she became suddenly aware that the door had opened quietly and
someone had entered. She could not turn her head at the moment.
"Oh, do go away!" she said. "I haven't a second to spare; and if this
goes wrong I shall be hours longer."
The kitchen door closed promptly and obligingly, and Molly, with a little
sigh of relief, concentrated her full attention once more upon the matter
in hand.
The last critical phase of the operation arrived, and she lifted the
saucepan from the fire and turned round with it to the table.
In that instant she saw that which so disturbed her equanimity that she
nearly dropped saucepan and contents upon the kitchen floor.
Earl Wyverton was standing with his back against the door, watching her
with eyes that shone quizzically under the meeting brows.
He came forward instantly, and actually took the saucepan out of her
hands.
"Let me," he said.
Molly let him, being for the moment powerless to do otherwise.
"Now," he said, "what does one do--pour it into this glass thing? I see.
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