"Goddess!" Billings swallowed hard. "And did these—h'm—garments belong to the lady?"
The professor frowned at him in surprise. "Garments?"
"Them," said Billings in devilish questionable grammar, pointing to the table. "They are pajamas, you know."
"Ha!" ejaculated the professor, holding them up. "So they are. You are very observing, sir, very. Now, I had not noticed that at all; I was so interested in the material itself—the wonderful silk of Si-Ling-Chi, gentlemen. Ha! Indeed a rare privilege!"
By Jove! He stroked the stuff lightly, tenderly—as one likes to do a little child's hair, don't you know.
"Beautiful, beautiful fabric," he sighed half to himself. "Only once before have I seen a piece of it—but it was enough; I could never, never forget." Something like a groan escaped him.
Billings angled his head toward me and tightly compressed one eye.
"H'm! Something in the petticoat line—eh, Professor?"
The professor's face wrinkled with the most matter-of-fact surprise.
"Petticoat?" he piped querulously. "You are forgetting that the petticoat is a vestment unknown in China."