"But, really, I ought to go home."
"No, you'll be perfectly comfortable here. You know you don't like going home alone at night."
"Not a night like this," said Gertrude Fagan shuddering.
"But it's the finest night we've had this spring."
"I hate it; it makes me feel unclean, as if I hadn't washed all day. And there's a sense of unclean things prowling about one ... It shatters my nerves a night like this."
"I wonder if I don't feel that way too, really," Nan said in a low dead voice. "Look, Gertrude, are you too tired to work the board again tonight?"
"You mean you want to try again?"
Nan nodded.
"Of course I could keep it up for a little while," said Gertrude Fagan, getting eagerly to her feet. "You're sure your aunt won't mind if I spend the night? Seeing me appear mysteriously at the breakfast table might surprise her."
"Poor Aunt M., she's gone beyond surprise, Gertrude; she probably won't recognize you. It's almost as if she were dead."