He gave her an apple, and took the other himself. He went back to the window, feeling that it was too disturbing to be so close to her.
“I say!” he said, looking into the street. “It’s beginning to rain.”
“Oh, hell!” She raised her head. “Hard?”
“I’m afraid so.” He leaned out of the window, feeling the rain on his face. “It looks as if it’s set in for the night. I can lend you my mack, of course, but I’m afraid you’ll get wet.”
As she didn’t say anything, he glanced over his shoulder. She was lying flat on her hack, staring up at the ceiling.
“This bed’s comfortable,” she said, as if speaking to herself. “I think I’ll spend the night here. It doesn’t seem much sense going out in the rain, especially as Sydney won’t he back until late. Besides, I’m tired.”
George realized that his breath was whistling through his nostrils. He felt his blood moving through his veins: it was a most odd sensation.
“You’ll sleep here—?”
She seemed to become aware of him.
“Would you mind?”