"You look as if you'd had a night of it," remarked Rosie. Eddie yawned obligingly. "Don't sit on my desk. Can't you see those letters?"
"Gee, you're getting touchy of late. I'll move the letters."
"No, you won't," she objected. "Besides, it doesn't look well. What if someone should come in—suddenly?"
"Well, it wouldn't be the first time I got out suddenly, would it?" He retained his seat on the desk. "Say, where's Rigby?"
"You mean MR. Rigby? He's out."
"Gee, you're also snippy. Well, give him my regards. So long."
He was unwinding his long legs preparatory to a descent from his perch.
"Don't rush," she said quickly. He rewound his legs and yawned. "Goodness, you're not affected with insomnia, are you?"
"I've got it the worst way. I got awake at eight o'clock this morning and I couldn't go to sleep again to save my soul. It's an awful disease. Will Rigby be back soon?"
"It won't matter. He's engaged," she snapped, cracking away at her machine.