"Lazy bones! Get up! Will you be lying abed all day?"
"A—all right——"
He opened his eyes with an effort and glanced at his wrist watch—— Eight o'clock.
"Coffee in the studio, Harry dear, in ten minutes."
"Oh! All right——"
The hammering stopped, foot-steps retreated and Jim Horton tumbled out, rubbing his eyes and gazing at the golden lozenges of light upon the wall. It was a most inspiriting reveille, arresting as the shrill clarion of camp on a frosty morning; but sweeter far, joyous with promise of the new day. It was only during the progress of his hasty toilet that the douche of cold water over his head and face recalled to him with unpleasant suddenness and distinctness the events of the night before, and he emerged from vigorous rubbing exhilarated but sober. There was a lot of thinking to be done and a difficult resolution to make, and with Moira at his elbow it wasn't going to be easy. But by the time he knocked at the door of the studio, the pleasure of the immediate prospect made ready his good cheer for the morning greeting. He heard her voice calling and entered. A new fire blazed on the hearth, and an odor of coffee filled the air. She emerged from the door of the small kitchen, a coffee-pot and a heaping plateful of brioches in her hands.
"Good morning! I've been waiting for you an hour or more. You've been developing amazing bad habits in the hospital."
"Why didn't you call me before?"
"Sure and I believed you might be thinking I was anxious to see you."
"And aren't you?"