He tried to speak but could not. She glanced at the bedroom door which stood open, and said, with eyes that seemed to laugh,
"Is that your....?"
He nodded, breathing deeply, and trying to turn his eyes away.
"May I perhaps....?"
"If you would like to."
"What fun!"
She stood in the doorway, looking into the room for a moment, with the sunlight on her bronze-brown hair, and then, turning back to him with the warmer sunshine of her smile, she said,
"Well, you young bachelors know how to make yourselves comfortable, I must say. But I seem to scent a woman about this place."
He found himself stammering: "There's my housekeeper, Mrs. Quayle. She comes every morning...."
"Ah, that accounts for it."