They were standing in the dining-room; even in the gloom of the interior Rosalind could discern a shining of glass and silverware that stood on a sideboard. Sam groped along the wall for an electric switch and, finding it, turned on the lights.
"Let's try the library; there's a fireplace there," he said.
Rosalind remembered how he knew, but she felt it was not a time for dwelling upon previous house-breakings. She followed him readily, crossing a broad hall and entering a room where the floor was cushioned with thick rugs.
The chimney-place had been set for a fire, but no match had been applied to the kindlings. He found one on the center table, and Rosalind, sighing contentedly, watched the red flames grow and spread.
Next he pushed a heavy leather chair across the floor close to the hearth, and motioned her into it. She sat obediently and stretched her feet close to the blaze. Without a word, he dropped to his knees and began taking off her shoes.
Without a word he dropped on his knees and began taking off her shoes
She felt too comfortable to protest. Besides, he did it with the wholly impersonal manner of a salesman; also, Rosalind reflected, it was a sensible thing to do.
After he had placed her damp shoes close to the fire, at one side of the hearth, he brought her a foot-stool. Then he disappeared in the direction of the dining-room. When he returned he was carrying a tray, upon which were a decanter and two glasses.
"Sherry?" he asked.