The Nun looked at him, smiled, looked away, looked back once more.
"Well, I shall have nothing else to do—in the way of recreation," she said.
A long silence followed. Billy threw away the stump of his cigar.
"Hang it, he's got the style, that fellow has!"
"Who's got what style?" asked the Nun. Her voice sounded drowsy.
"What the House likes—Andy."
"What house?" drawled the Nun, terribly and happily sleepy.
"Oh, you're a lively girl to drive home with in a motor at night!"
Her eyes were closed, her lips ever so little parted. Half asleep, still she smiled. He made a trumpet of his hands and shouted into her ear. "The House of Commons, stupid!"
"Don't tickle my ear," said the Nun. "And try if you can't be quiet!"