"I--I thought you were--it is very late," I managed to say, with
dry lips. "Do you know where the electric switch is?"

"Mrs. Wilson!" It was clear he had not known me before. "Why, no;
don't you?"

"I am all confused," I muttered, and beat a retreat into the
dining room. There, in the friendly light, we could at least see
each other, and I think he was as much impressed by the fact that
I had not undressed as I was by the fact that he HAD, partly. He
wore a hideous dressing gown of Jimmy's, much too small, and his
hair, parted and plastered down in the early evening, stood up in
a sort of brown brush all over his head. He was trying to flatten
it with his hands.

"It must be three o'clock," he said, with polite surprise, "and
the house is like a barn. You ought not to be running around with
your arms uncovered, Mrs. Wilson. Surely you could have called
some of us."

"I didn't wish to disturb any one," I said, with distinct truth.

"I suppose you are like me," he said. "The novelty of the
situation--and everything. I got to thinking things over, and
then I realized the studio was getting cold, so I thought I would
come down and take a look at the furnace. I didn't suppose any
one else would think of it. But I lost myself in that pantry,
stumbled against a half-open drawer, and nearly went down the
dumb-waiter." And, as if in judgment on me, at that instant came
two rather terrific thumps from somewhere below, and inarticulate