“What is he reading?” She put out her hand. He seized the book.
“A bedside classic, is it?”
He put it under his pillow.
“You look nice in bed,” she said softly, “but not a bit what I expected.”
“I am not what I was, of course,” he said hastily.
“Are you a Once Was? Poor darling—does it hurt? Do you like my frock?”
He said he liked it—enormously.
“And my shoes?”
He nodded.
“Mother says I get my slim feet from you.”