"There's no taxi at that hour."
"Then we'll walk ... there's no curfew is there?"
"No."
Upstairs, up the dimly lit stairs, he opened the door to his room: a fire was burning in his fireplace.
"Claude made a fire," Orville said, chuckling.
"How nice."
She hugged her coat against her breasts as she glanced around shyly. Peering into his mirror on his chest of drawers she saw the gun rack, rifles, shotgun, fishing rods, botanical prints ... a mounted bass over his bed.
"What a funny thing to make love under," she kidded.
"I've made a real catch this time."
"Oh, darling..."