"Yes," she went on, "we were so lonely till you came." She broke off to yawn. "Do you know, I'm beginning to get sleepy. Is it the spell, do you think, or only the dark?"
"It is not the spell," he said, with conviction.
"No?" She moved uneasily. "I'm not very comfy," she remarked. "I wish I were like Cinders. He can sleep in any position. It must be so convenient."
"Will you, then, lean on my shoulder?" Bertrand suggested, with a touch of diffidence.
She accepted the offer with alacrity. "Oh, yes, if you don't mind. It would be better than nodding one's head off, as if one were in church, wouldn't it? But what of you? Aren't you sleepy at all?"
"I have no desire to sleep," he told her gravely.
"Haven't you?" Chris's head descended promptly upon his shoulder. "I've never been up all night before," she said. "It feels so funny. How the sea roars! I wish it wouldn't. Bertie, you're sure there isn't such a thing as a dragon really, aren't you?"
His hand closed fast upon hers. "I am quite sure, chérie."
"Thank you. That's nice," she murmured. "I haven't said my prayers. Do you think it matters as I'm not going to bed? I really am tired."
"No, dear," he said. "Le bon Dieu understands."