these here rugs will give it a sort of a ground softness."

He sat cross-legged on the low pile of rugs, while he pulled off his
boots and smoked his good-night cigarette. Jig coiled up in a big
chair, while he studied his jailer.

"But how can you go to bed so early?" he asked.

"Early? It ain't early. Sun's down, ain't it? Why do they bring on
night, except for folks to go to sleep?"

"For my part the best part of the day generally begins when the sun
goes down."

With patient contempt Riley considered John Gaspar. "You look kind of
that way," he decided aloud. "Pale and not much good with your
shoulders. Now, what d'you most generally do with your time in the
evening?"

"Why--talk."

"Talk? Huh! A fine way of wasting time for a growed-up man."

"And I read, you know."

"I can see by the looks of them shelves that you do. How many of them
books might you have read, Jig?"

"All of them."