"You never told me your fairy tale, Adam."
"I expect you know it," said I. "It's all about the princess a fellow found in the snow, and how he took her to his home for shelter, and set her on her way in the morning, and then spent his poor life trying to find her again. Anyway, one doesn't tell fairy-tales to fairies, and—and I'd rather you watched the fire. He'll tell you a finer story than ever I could. At least—"
"Yes?"
"Well, he's a bold fellow, the fire. He'll say things that I can't, Eve. He'll praise, thank, bless you all in a flash. See what he says for a moment. Remember he's speaking for me."
"Praise, thank, bless," she repeated dreamily. "Does he ever ask anything in return?"
"Never," said I.
For a full moment she sat gazing into the flames. Then she flung her cigarette into the grate and jumped to her feet before I had time to help her.
"Bed-time," she cried. "Mine, at any rate.
"I'll see you to your room," said I, lighting one of the candles. Then I picked up her grey fur coat and laid it over my arm.
"Adam," said Eve.