And she fell into an abstraction, wondering, with her cheek resting on her hand, what he, or it, would look like.
There was a pause. Anna-Rose was wondering too what sort of a creature Columbus had in her mind, and how many, if any, legs it would have; and the other three were, as before, silent.
Then the old lady said, "Albert," and put out her hand to be helped on to her feet.
The old gentleman struggled out of his chair, and helped her up. His face had a congested look, as if he were with difficulty keeping back things he wanted to say.
Miss Heap got up too, stuffing her knitting as she did so into her brocaded bag.
"Go on ahead and ring the elevator bell, Albert," said the old lady. "It's time we went and had our nap."
"I ain't going to," said the old gentleman suddenly.
"What say? What ain't you going to, Albert?" said the old lady, turning her slow eyes round to him.
"Nap," said the old gentleman, his face very red.
It was intolerable to have to go and nap. He wished to stay where he was and talk to the twins. Why should he have to nap because somebody else wanted to? Why should he have to nap with an old lady, anyway? Never in his life had he wanted to nap with old ladies. It was all a dreadful mistake.