And seeing my perplexed mien, she began to laugh.

“Euan, you are stupid! Did not the Grecian maids spend half their lives in the bath?”

The slight flush of laughter faded from her face; the white fatigue came back; and she passed the back of one hand wearily across her brow, clearing it of the damp curls.

“The deadly sultriness of these nights,” she sighed. “I was no longer able to endure the heat under the eaves among my dusty husks. So lately I have stolen at night to the Spring Waiontha to bathe in the still, cold pools. Oh, Euan, it is most delicious! I have slept there until dawn, lying up to my throat in the crystal flood.” She laughed again. “And once, lying so, asleep, my body slipped and in I slid, deep, deep in, and awoke in a dreadful fright half drowned.”