"It's silly to sit here like two hens on a roost," she said.
"It's cozy," said I with a blissful smile that perhaps approached the idiotic.
"Cozy or not," she insisted, "we resemble a pair of absurd birds."
"Then," said I, "one of us ought to twitter and begin to sing."
We both laughed. "The last time we were here together," I reminded her, "you were singing all the while."
"Was I?"
"Yes, and I liked it—although your detachment was not flattering to me."
"Poor Michael. Did you feel abused?"
"It's no novel feeling," said I.
"You ungrateful young man! Do you mean to insinuate that I abuse you? I—who go fishing with you, stop my house-work to gossip with you, sit on the stairs with you at three in the morning—and in my nightie, too——"