At any rate, I am accustomed to action.

I took from its place beside my bed a thick Jaeger dressing-gown of dark brown--it was, of course, of extra length--and held it out to her as I said: "Put that on.

It is the only warm thing here which would be suitable.
Stay; you must remove that wet--wet"-- I stumbled about for a word that would not be offensive--"that frock--dress--costume--whatever it is." I pointed to where, in the corner of the room, stood a chintz-covered folding-screen which fences in my cold sponge bath, which is laid ready for me overnight, as I am an early riser.
She bowed gravely, and taking the dressing-gown in a long, white, finely-shaped hand, bore it behind the screen.

There was a slight rustle, and then a hollow "flop" as the wet garment fell on the floor; more rustling and rubbing, and a minute later she emerged wrapped from head to foot in the long Jaeger garment, which trailed on the floor behind her, though she was a tall woman.

She was still shivering painfully, however.