"You must dress in two minutes. Throw on a wrapper or shawl."
"Oh, mercy! What is it?"
"Dress!"
"Very well!—Good gracious! where's my slippers?" This last a nervous aside.
Then the noise from inside Miss Travenion's stateroom indicates she is obeying him with a vigor that shows he has impressed her.
Within the time specified she has opened her door, and stepped out to him, draped in some warm woollen wrapper, which clings about her lithe, graceful figure; and the moonlight shining through the car window gets into her unbound hair, and makes it very soft and golden.
She says hastily, but pathetically, "Now, tell me!"
"Can you be very brave?"
"Yes! Try me!"
Looking in her eyes, he knows she can be.