How irritating the weather always is, Christine thought. For though she
was willing to use scandal as a weapon over Riatt, she was not sure that
she wished to put it into Hickson's hands.

She thought hard, and then said brightly:

"Oh, perhaps he came back for his breakfast before I was up."

Hickson shook his head: "They only lead one way," he said.

In the face of the tactlessness of hard facts, Christine decided to
create a diversion.

"I can't stand here gossiping about the conduct of an aviator," she said,
"when there's so much to be done. Look at all these dirty plates. What
ought to be done with them, Edward, dear?" she appealed to him as to a
fountain of wisdom, and he did not fail her.

"They ought to be washed," he said. "Give me a towel. I'll do it." And
he felt more than rewarded when, as she handed him a towel, her hand
touched his.

The many duties of which she had just spoken seemed suddenly to have
melted away, for she sat down quite idly and watched him.

"How well you do it, Edward," she said, not quite honestly, for she
compared his slow gestures very unfavorably with Riatt's deft hands.
"It's quite as if you had washed dishes all your life."