Virginia wrinkled her brows.
“I’m not sure that they are burglars. Bill, it’s very queer—— But don’t let’s waste time talking. Get up.”
Bill slipped obediently out of bed.
“Wait while I don a pair of boots—the big ones with nails in them. However big and strong I am, I’m not going to tackle hardened criminals with bare feet.”
“I like your pyjamas, Bill,” said Virginia dreamily. “Brightness without vulgarity.”
“While we’re on the subject,” remarked Bill, reaching for his second boot, “I like that thingummybob of yours. It’s a pretty shade of green. What do you call it? It’s not just a dressing-gown, is it?”
“It’s a négligé” said Virginia. “I’m glad you’ve led such a pure life, Bill.”
“I haven’t,” said Bill indignantly.
“You’ve just betrayed the fact. You’re very nice, Bill, and I like you. I dare say that to-morrow morning—say about ten o’clock, a good safe hour for not unduly exciting the emotions—I might even kiss you.”
“I always think these things are best carried out on the spur of the moment,” suggested Bill.