“Well, we must be practical. And the specialist was telling me it would be quite a long time before--before you would be up and about again. But doctors always exaggerate, you know. And there’s your poor face to get well besides.” “But how long will it be before I shall be able to take this damned head-dress off in daylight? It was all very well when the old fool took it off in the darkened room so that I couldn’t see anything, nor he either. His breath did smell nasty, too.” “My dear boy, I never notice people’s breath.” “‘May be the sign of a deep-rooted disorder.’ ‘Even your best friends won’t tell you.’ ‘Halitosis is an insidious enemy,’ and so on. And an American firm has got the only thing on God’s earth that will cure you. He ought to take it, really.” “John, I do wish you would not swear like that. The servants would be very shocked if they knew, and it is such a bad example to the village boys.” “But, heavens above, they don’t hear me swear.” “No, but they hear of it, don’t you see.” --Must talk. “Rather an amusing thing has happened. You know Doris, the third housemaid. Well, she is little more than a child, and hasn’t got her hair up. When she came, of course I insisted that she should put it up, which upset her terribly. Now, when she takes the afternoon off she puts it into a pigtail again. Silly little thing.” “What’s that in your voice? You aren’t angry with her, are you? because I think it’s rather nice. I like pigtails, don’t you? Do you know that bit of Browning, _Porphyrias’ Lover_? But when shall I be able to see a pigtail again, that’s the point?” “What’s that thing, John, a poem, or what?” “He makes her lover strangle her with her own hair, done in a pigtail. I don’t know what it means, no one knows, only I am quite sure I should like to do it. Think--the soft, silken rope, and the warm, white neck, and ...” “Now, don’t be silly. I don’t understand.” “But when shall I be allowed to take this off? It will be fun seeing again. I suppose he gave some idea of a date?” “Yes, but he was not very definite, in a way he was rather vague. You see, it is a long business. Eyes are delicate things.” Dread. “How long?--three months? I only thought it would be one, but it can’t be helped.” “Longer than that, I am afraid. Much longer, he said.” “Six months?” “Dear boy, we must be practical. It may take a--a very long time indeed.” “In fact, I shall be blind for life. Why didn’t you tell me at once? No, no, of course I understand.” So he was blind. She looks out of the window into the grey blur outside. Drops are having small races on the panes. The murmur fills the room with lazy sound. Now and then a drop falls from an eave to a sill, and sometimes a little cascade of drips patter down.