"Oh, I see," said I slowly. "He knew all the time that you were napping in that chair, eh?"
"You shall not scold him!"
"I shall do even worse than that. I shall pension him for life."
She appeared thoughtful. A little frown' of annoyance clouded her brow.
"He promised faithfully to arouse me the instant you were sighted on the opposite side of the river. I made him stand in the window with a field glass. No, on second thought, I shall scold him. If he had come to the door and shouted, you wouldn't have caught me in this odious dressing-gown. Helene—"
"It is most fascinating," I cried. "Adorable! I love flimsy, pink things. They're so intimate. And Poopendyke knows it, bless his ingenuous old soul."
I surprised a queer little gleam of inquiry in her eyes. It flickered for a second and died out.
"Do you really consider him an ingenuous old soul?" she asked. And I thought there was something rather metallic in her voice. I might have replied with intelligence if she had given me a chance, but for some reason she chose to drop the subject. "You must be famished, and I am dying to hear about your experiences. You must not omit a single detail. I—"
There came a gentle, discreet knocking on the half-open door. I started, somewhat guiltily.
"Come!"