"Thank you much, Billy," she smiled, closing the door on his monologue.
"Is this your family?" he asked, laying his hand on Milly's head.
"Yes. Her name is Militant, but we call her Milly, as a sort of tactful evasion. Protects her with the neighbours, who are, on the whole, conservatives."
He smiled, laid his coat aside, and turned to look at her closely. She met his glance, flushing slightly.
"I have to get used to you at home."
He looked about him frankly.
"Yes, this is you—virginal, cloistered. Where did you get that Salome?" he inquired.
"I don't know. I understand Salome."
She sat by the window, where the afternoon sun came in, the big cat asleep in her lap. He drew a chair near her.
"I'm enormously curious about you. Where did you come from? Who were your people? How did you get here?"