Johnny’s look of innocence grew more pronounced.
“How’d you get your clothes so wet?”
“Rain,” said Jeff.
Puff, puff.
“You look right muddy too.”
“Dust in the air,” said Jeff.
“Ah!—yes.” Silence during the rolling of another cigarette. Then: “How’d you get that cut on your head?”
Jeff’s hand went to his head and felt the bump there. He regarded his fingers in some perplexity.
“That? Oh, that’s where I bit myself!” He stalked off to bed in gloomy dignity.
Half an hour later Johnny called softly: