She turned her eyes, and seeing the large orbs of the youth fixed upon her, smiled as she had not smiled before, for a great weight was off her heart now that the room gave him a little welcome.

True, it was after all but a hypocrite of a room,--a hypocrite, however, whose meaning was better than its looks! He put out his hand, and she rose and came and laid hers in it.
Suddenly he let it go.
"I beg your pardon," he said.

"I don't know when my hands were washed! The last I remember is digging in the garden.

I wish I might wash my face and hands!" "You mustn't think of it! you can't sit up yet," said Lady Joan.
"But never mind: some people are always clean.

You should see my brother's hands sometimes! I will, if you like, bring you a towel with a wet corner.