She saw the rugs spread on the straw.
"Who is going to sleep here?" she asked.
"Why—but——"
He cut short her expostulations.
"Oh, but do let me bring you sheets. Do let me make you a proper bed!" she cried.
But he only laughed at her.
"What's a proper bed?" he said. "Is this an improper one, then?"
"It's not a comfortable one," she said with dignity.
"It is for me. I wasn't going to ask you to sleep on it too, was I, now?"
She went out and stood looking at the Southern Cross.