—The game led them upstairs, to the bedrooms.
“Now it’s my turn to be inside,” suggested Letty. “You’ve come home late, oh, horribly late; and I’ve been waiting up for you.”
“I seem to have a pretty rotten character altogether in this show,” Sebastian objected. “What about you coming home late?”
“Wives don’t,” said Letty and a lovely colour flooded her face at the word she had unwittingly let slip.
He smiled. “Don’t they? All right, then we’ll both be coming home late; I refuse to be a prodigal, for you to bully me. We’ve been out together, Letty darling, and you’re dead tired; I think I have to carry you upstairs.” He strode ahead, and placed the candle on the window-sill of the front first-floor room. Then, his hands free, returned for his burden.
“Sebastian, you’re crushing me....”
“Let me undress you, you sleepy baby. Sit down while I pull the combs out of your hair ... what soft light masses ... like burying one’s hands in a snow-drift only it’s warm ... warm. Did you enjoy yourself, dancing with me to-night?”
“It was glorious; I’d rather waltz with you than anyone, Sebastian.”
“Even though I’m only your husband?”
A hush. While the spearhead of flame spun fantastic humped shadows over the ceiling.