“What have you done?” I asked her.
She shook her head, almost convulsively, and tried to hide her face
again.
“What, have you done?” I asked.
I looked more closely at the bureau, dreading what I might see upon it.
But there were only the famihar little toilet accessories that I had
seen there before. My eyes searched about among them, while I sat there
on the bed, while she continued to press my hands, with her own cold
ones, against her face.
Then I looked down. On the floor, almost at my feet, was a glass with
a little water in it. Near by was a small brown medicine bottle, with
beaded edges. The cork was out. A little cotton lay by it.