"I am glad you have come," she said. "Phyllis--Miss Oman, you know--has
kindly bound up my hand, but I should like you to see that it is all
right."
We went into the sitting-room, where I laid out my paraphernalia on the
table while I inquired into the particulars of the accident.
"It is most unfortunate that it should have happened just now," she
said, as I wrestled with one of those remarkable feminine knots that,
while they seem to defy the utmost efforts of human ingenuity to untie,
yet have a singular habit of untying themselves at inopportune moments.
"Why just now, in particular?" I asked.
"Because I have some specially important work to do. A very learned lady
who is writing a historical book has commissioned me to collect all the
literature relating to the Tell el Amarna letters--the cuneiform
tablets, you know, of Amenhotep the Fourth."
"Well," I said soothingly, "I expect your hand will soon be well."
"Yes, but that won't do. The work has to be done immediately. I have to
send in the completed notes not later than this day week, and it will be
quite impossible.
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