The room was dense with steam.
"You don't mind if I go on with my wash, do you ?" he said.

"I shall be late for dinner if I don't." "What in thunder do you want to boil yourself like this for ?" demanded Sir Beverley.
Piers, seated with his hands clasped round his knees, looked up with the smile of an infant.

"It suits my constitution, sir," he said.

"I freeze myself in the morning and boil myself at night--always.

By that means I am rendered impervious to all atmospheric changes of temperature." "You're a fool, Piers," said Sir Beverley.
Piers laughed, a gay, indifferent laugh.