And Sinclair laughed in the confidence of success.
“Sure you didn’t. Say, is there a girl in the world ready to admit the things she wants from a man? No, no, kid. You didn’t come around for fooling. It’s a mighty important proposition to set you turning out on a night that’s only fit for starving timber wolves. Here, come across to the stove. Shake the snow off you, and thaw out those pretty fingers. I’ll close the door in case there’s any wolves chasing around.”
He laughed at his own pleasantry while he closed and fastened the door. Then, as the girl undid her fur coat beside the stove, her voice came sharply.
“That window,” she said. “Can’t you set a blanket across it?”
Sinclair paused half-way to her side. His eyes were still smiling the elation he felt. The girl gestured impatiently and spread out her hands to the warmth.
“You must,” she said. “I—I daresn’t stand around here with that window uncovered.”
“I see.”
In half a minute one of the brown blankets from Sinclair’s bed was hung on two nails that were already in the window casing for just such a purpose.
“You think anyone saw you come out?”
The policeman was at the stove. He was at the opposite side of it looking across into the pretty face that had lost something of its usual confidence. Annette’s gaze was unsteady. There was a distinct droop at the corners of the mouth that Sinclair knew could caress so hotly. He realized from the swift rise and fall of a tumultuous bosom that she was disturbed and apprehensive.