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"Don't you remember me now -- at Mrs. Murrett's? " She threw the question at Darrow across a table of the quiet coffee-room to which, after a vainly prolonged quest for her trunk, he had suggested taking her for a cup of tea.
In this musty retreat she had removed her dripping hat, hung it on the fender to dry, and stretched herself on tiptoe in front of the round eagle-crowned mirror, above the mantel vases of dyed immortelles, while she ran her fingers comb-wise through her hair. The gesture had acted on Darrow's numb feelings as the glow of the fire acted on his circulation; and when he had asked: "Aren't your feet wet, too? " and, after frank inspection of a stout-shod sole, she had answered cheerfully: "No -- luckily I had on my new boots," he began to feel that human intercourse would still be tolerable if it were always as free from formality.