He stared
her in the eyes as if to ask: "What trick do you hope to play, I
wonder? Do you think I'm such a blamed idiot as to leave a way out
open after all the trouble and expense I've put myself to on your
account?"
But being perfectly sure that there was no way out, no trick in her
power seemed worth worrying about--unless she had some melodramatic
little bottle of poison concealed about her which she would drain and
die, like the heroine of an old-fashioned play. He was certain that
the brave, vital young creature who had seized his fancy would do
nothing of the kind, however, and he felt that it was safe to humour
her.
"You can even go to sleep on the sofa, if you like, provided you'll
promise to dream of me," he said, "and if you'll let me come and wake
you up. Oh, I've caught you looking at the keyhole! There's no key in
it, you see, for me to lock you in--or for you to lock me out."
"Neither of us would be so medieval, would we?" she laughed. "That
would be a silly way to begin the evening. Now that I am here I am
going to make the very, very best of it, I promise you!"
"That's right! You're the girl of my heart!" said Logan, and, stepping
away from the door, let her walk into the lighted boudoir.
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