“No, I don’t think so. It takes longer than you would imagine to do all the housework yourself. I tried it last winter and found it not worth while. Besides, dusting and cleaning are so absorbing. I could think of nothing else.”
“But doesn’t she find it absorbing?”
Merivale laughed.
“I feel sure she doesn’t,” he said, “or she would do it better. But when I dusted for myself, nothing short of perfection would content me. I was dusting all day long.”
Evelyn looked doubtfully at his bed.
“Shall I have to make it—whatever ‘making’ means?” he asked, “if I sleep in it? If so, I really don’t think it would be worth while. Besides, I know I shan’t sleep, and if I don’t sleep I am a wreck.”
Merivale raised his eyebrows.
“Surely you sleep when you want sleep just as you eat when you are hungry,” he said, “or is that an exploded superstition?”
“Quite exploded. I shan’t sleep a wink,” said Evelyn, beginning to undress. “Oh, how can I?” he cried.
“And you really want to?”