Unexpected Request.

She had noticed the huskiness in his voice, and the nervous manner in which he fidgeted in his chair. She knew what was coming.

“Joan,” he said, and his throat seemed dry and parched, “would you—could you—”

“Go on, George,” she murmured, encouragingly. “I'm listening.”

“Would you—er—do you think you could—get me a drink of water? I'm as dry as a bone.”

* * *