She tore herself free and darted to the wardrobe door. He closed his eyes and his lashes lay low on his cheeks.
"Before you go, Goldie, where's the antiphlogistin? I got a chest on me like an ice-wagon."
"Sure, you have. That's the only time you ever show up before crack of dawn."
He reached out and touched her wrist.
"I'm hot, ain't I?"
She placed a reluctant hand on his brow.
"Fever?"
"It ain't nothing much. I'll be all right."
"It's just one of your spells. Stay in bed a couple of days, and you'll soon be ready for another jamboree!"
"Don't fuss at me, baby."