She lay back, regarding me inscrutably. "If she looks like that," she sighed, "you ought to love her very much, Dicky."
I couldn't say anything, for words are so deuced inadequate, you know. But I just made an effort to look it all.
"Of course," sighing, "you ought to feel that way; and, another thing, Dicky: you'll never forget where you first saw her, will you? One of the things one never forgets."
"Right in this room," I murmured; "and in that wicker chair."
"Really?" Her surprised ejaculation was delicious. By Jove, how entrancingly coquettish of her! How jolly clever!
"Go on; tell me how she was dressed—never mind any more picture business; just tell me in four or five words. Bet you can't do it!" She slipped over again to the arm of my chair.
In her eyes was a challenge and I took it up.
"In black silk pajamas," I said daringly.
Her blue eyes opened wide. For a moment I feared she would be offended at my audacity, but her birdlike carol of laughter reassured me.
"Say, you're not so slow, are you?"