" What do you think you are doing?” she fumed. “I hauled all that hot water for my own bath.” He smirked. “I did wonder who left it. Awfully kind of you.” “It was not kind,” she said between clenched teeth. “It was for my own bath. Why would you presume someone filled it for you?” His eyes narrowed. “How high and mighty you speak all of a sudden.” She felt her cheeks burn. “Well, I’m angry!” He gripped the sides of the tub and made as though to rise. “Then I shall get out straightaway if you like.” “No! Not with me standing here. I shall wait outside.” She stepped out and closed the door. Five or ten minutes later he finally emerged, hair slicked back, skin still glistening. “It’s all yours, love.” “I trust you’re going to help me refill it?” “No need. It’s perfectly good water. Still warm. I shall even come in and scrub your back, if you like.” He winked at her. “Not on your life. How selfish you are.” He lifted his square chin. “Well, I shall definitely not fetch and tote for you after that.” He turned away, whistling to himself as he walked jauntily down the passage, her towel around his neck. "
― Julie Klassen , The Maid of Fairbourne Hall