"Why—keep the fire going, I presume."
"Is it necessary, do you think? Or even worth while?"
He made a doubtful gesture.
"I wish," she continued—"I wish you'd stay in the house. I—I'm really a bit timid: unnerved, I presume. It's been, you know, rather a harrowing experience. Anything might happen in a place like this...."
"Oh, certainly," he agreed, something constrained. "I'd feel more content, myself, to know I was within call if anything should alarm you."
They returned to the kitchen.
In silence, while Whitaker fidgeted about the room, awkward and unhappy, the girl removed a glass lamp from the shelf above the sink, assured herself that it was filled, and lighted it. Then, over her shoulder:
"I hope you don't mean to stay up all night."
"I—well, I'm really not sleepy."
"Oh, but you are," she contradicted calmly.