"Dark as Egypt, eh?" he called out from the opposite side of the room.
"Not as dark as the forest, Mr. Shaw."
"Good heavens, what a time you must have had. All alone, were you?"
"Of course. I was not eloping."
"I beg your pardon."
"Where were you sitting when I came up?"
"Here--in the dark. I was waiting for the storm to come and dozed
away, I daresay. I love a storm, don't you?"
"Yes, if I'm indoors. Ah!" He had struck a match and was lighting the
wick of a lamp beside the huge fireplace. "I suppose you think I'm
perfectly crazy. I'm horrid."
"Not at all. Sit down here on the couch, please. More cheerful, eh?
Good Lord, listen to the wind. You got here just in time. Now, if
you'll excuse me, I'll have Mrs. Ulrich down in a minute. She'll take
good care of you. And I'll make you a nice hot drink, too. You need
it." In the door of the big living-room he turned to her, a look of
extreme doubt in his eyes. "By Jove, I bet I _do_ wake up. It can't
be true." She laughed plaintively and shook her head in humble
self-abasement. "Don't be lonesome. I'll he back in a minute."
"Don't hurry," she murmured apologetically. Then she settled back
limply in the wide couch and inspected the room, his footsteps noisily
clattering down the long hallway to the left. She saw, with some
misgiving, that it was purely a man's habitation. Shaw doubtless had
built and furnished the big cottage without woman as a consideration.
The room was large, comfortable, solid; there was not a suggestion of
femininity in it--high or low--except the general air of cleanliness.
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