"Perhaps I have something to be optimistic about," he replied. "Do you feel that draft on the floor?"
She looked up at him quickly. There was a troubled expression in her eyes as she scrutinized his. "Perhaps you had better lie down and try to sleep," she suggested. "You are overwrought."
It was his turn to eye her. "What do you mean?" he asked. "Do I seem exhausted?"
"No, but—but I just thought the strain might have been too great on you."
"What strain?" he inquired.
"What strain!" she exclaimed. "Stanley Obroski you come and lie down here and let me rub your head—perhaps it will put you to sleep."
"I'm not sleepy. Don't you want to get out of here?"
"Of course I do, but we can't."
"Perhaps not, but we can try. I asked you if you felt the draft on the floor."
"Of course I feel it, but what has that to do with anything. I'm not cold."