“Oh, I thought there was for a while,” Bertha said, yawning again, “but I guess it’s all a false alarm. Don’t know what she paid for the music box, do you?”
“No, I don’t, but I think it was rather a large sum. It’s a very beautiful piece, and there’s painting on it. Some kind of landscape painting done in oils.”
“Ever had that painting described to you?”
“No, I’ve just felt it with my fingers.”
Bertha sucked in another prodigious yawn.
“Well, I’m going to sleep. Do you like to sleep late in the morning?”
“Well, yes.”
“I don’t usually get up before nine or nine-thirty,” Bertha said. “That isn’t too late for you, is it?”
“The way I feel now, I could sleep the clock around.”
“Well, go ahead and get a good might’s sleep,” Bertha told him. “I’ll see you in the morning.”