"I was listening.… I have been listening here for some time, and I could not hear you breathing."
"Dear Daddy… is that all? Go back to your bed—it's wicked of you to be out of it, with the nights turning chilly as they are. I'll go back to mine and try to snore, if that's any comfort."
"I haven't been to bed at all. I couldn't… Corona!"
"You are not to turn the key!" she commanded in a whisper, for he was fumbling with it. "Uncle Copas pretended he was taking it away with him: or that was what I understood, and if he breaks an understanding it's his affair."
"I—I thought, dear, you might be hungry."
"Well, and suppose I am?"
Corona, now she came to think of it, was ravenous.
"I've a slice of bread here, and a cold sausage. If you'll wrap yourself up and come out, we can toast them both: the fire is still clear."
"As if I should think of it!… And it's lucky for you, Daddy, the key's on your side of the door. You ought to be ashamed of yourself, out of bed at—what is the time?"
"Past ten o'clock."