She flashed him one look of indignant reproach. "I should think you would be the last person in the world to remind me of it."
"I've got a right to mention it because I've asked you a question since that ain't been answered. That week's been up ten days."
"I'm not going to answer it now."
And with that she slipped past him and from the room.
He ran a hand through his curls and voiced his perplexity. "Now, if a woman ain't the strangest ever. Just as a fellow is ready to tell her things, she gets mad and hikes."
Nevertheless he smiled, not uncheerfully. What experience he had had with young women told him the signs were not hopeless for his success. He was not sure of her, not by a good deal. He had captured her imagination. But to win a girl's fancy is not the same as to storm her heart. He often caught himself wondering just where he stood with her. For himself, he knew he was fathoms deep in love.
She was in his thoughts when he fell asleep.
He awoke in the darkness, and sat upright in the bed, a feeling of calamity oppressing him. Something pungent tickled his nostrils.
A faint crackling sounded in the air.
Swiftly he slipped on such clothes as he needed and stepped into the passage. A heavy smoke was pouring up the back stairway. He knocked insistently upon the door where Phyllis and her guest were sleeping.