On the white, luminous background two pretty little hands were moving
about, a little uncertainly, over a window-ledge on which stood a row of
medicine bottles. Then, suddenly the two pretty hands became engaged in
doing something which is done by woman's hands every day--the pouring of
a liquid from one bottle into another.
Enid Crofton did not visualise the owner of the hands. She had no wish to
do so, but she did see the hands.
Then there started out before her, with astonishing vividness, another
little scene--this time with a man as central figure. He was whistling;
that she knew, though she could not hear the whistling. It was owing to
that surprised, long-drawn-out whistling sound that the owner of the
pretty hands had become suddenly, affrightedly, aware that someone was
there, outside the window, staring down, and so of course seeing the task
on which the two pretty little hands were engaged.
Now, the owner of that pair of now shaking little hands had felt quite
sure that no one could possibly see what they were engaged in doing--for
the window on the ledge of which the medicine bottles were standing
looked out on what was practically a blank wall.
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