"No, I think not," she replied.
She was charming in a soft grayish green satin. He noticed that her neck was beautiful and that her hair looped itself gracefully upon the back of it. Her nose was straight and fine, sensitive because of its thin partitioning walls. He followed her into the library and they went out on the porch. Presently he returned—it was ten o'clock—and she came also. Davis had gone to his room, Mrs. Hibberdell to hers.
"I think I'll read," he said, aimlessly.
"Why anything like that?" she jested. "Never read when you can do anything else."
"What else can I do?"
"Oh, lots of things. Play cards, tell fortunes, read palms, drink beer—" She looked at him wilfully.
He went to his favorite chair near the window, side by side with the window-seat couch. She came and threw herself on it.
"Be gallant and fix my pillows for me, will you?" she asked.
"Of course I will," he said.
He took a pillow and raised her head, for she did not deign to move.