A fit of nervous coughing ended this extraordinary exordium; and half
sitting, half leaning against the veranda, Mr. McClosky's guest turned
his face, and part of a slight elegant figure, toward his host. The
lower portion of this upturned face wore an habitual expression of
fastidious discontent, with an occasional line of physical suffering.
But the brow above was frank and critical; and a pair of dark, mirthful
eyes, sat in playful judgment over the super-sensitive mouth and its
suggestion.

"I allowed to go to bed, Ridgeway," said Mr. McClosky meekly; "but my
girl Jinny's jist got back from a little tear up at Robinson's, and
ain't inclined to turn in yet. You know what girls is. So I thought we
three would jist have a social chat together to pass away the time."

"You mendacious old hypocrite! She got back an hour ago," said Ridgeway,
"as that savage-looking escort of hers, who has been haunting the house
ever since, can testify. My belief is, that, like an enterprising idiot
as you are, you've dragged that girl out of her bed, that we might
mutually bore each other."

Mr. McClosky was too much stunned by this evidence of Ridgeway's
apparently superhuman penetration to reply. After enjoying his host's
confusion for a moment with his eyes, Ridgeway's mouth asked grimly,--

"And who is this girl, anyway?"

"Nancy's."

"Your wife's?"