Once he thought he heard a slight sound somewhere in the house behind him, but presently remembered that the family cat held sway among the mice at such an hour.
A little later he turned from the window to light a lamp, and found himself facing a slim, white figure in the starry dusk.
“Dulcie!” he exclaimed under his breath.
“I want to talk to you.”
“Why on earth are you wandering about at this hour?” he asked. “You made me jump, I can tell you.”
“I was awake—not in bed yet. I heard the telephone. Then I went out into the west corridor and saw you going down stairs.... Is it all right for me to sit here in my night dress with you?”
He smiled:
“Well, considering——”
“Of course!” she said hastily, “only I didn’t know whether outside your studio——”
“Oh, Dulcie, you’re becoming self-conscious! Stop it, Sweetness. Don’t spoil things. Here—tuck yourself into this big armchair!—curl up! There you are. And here I am——” dropping into another wide, deep chair. “Lord! but you’re a pretty thing, Dulcie, with your hair down and all glimmering with starlight! We’ll try painting you that way some day—I wouldn’t know how to go about it offhand, either. Maybe a 332 screened arc-lamp in a dark partition, and a peep-hole—I don’t know——”