" He was still breakfastless--he well
knew how to manipulate his weaknesses so that his purposes could
cow them, could even use them. He answered her lowering glance
with a flash of his blue-green eyes like lightning from the dark
head of a thunder-cloud. "Do you know it is nine o'clock?"
demanded he.
"So early? I try to get up late so that the days won't seem so
long."
He abandoned the field to her, and she thought him permanently
beaten. She had yet to learn the depths of his sagacity that never
gave battle until the time was auspicious.
Two mornings later he returned to the attack.
"I see your light burning every night until midnight," said he--at
breakfast with her, after the usual wait.
"I read myself to sleep," explained she.
"Do you think that's good for you?"
"I don't notice any ill effects."
"You say your health doesn't improve as rapidly as you hoped."
Check! She reddened with guilt and exasperation. "What a sly
trick!" thought she. She answered him with a cold: "I always have
read myself to sleep, and I fancy I always shall."
"If you went to sleep earlier," observed he, his air unmistakably
that of the victor conscious of victory, "you'd not keep me raging
round two or three hours for breakfast.
Pages:
277
278
279
280
281
282
283
284
285
286
287
288
289
290
291
292
293
294
295
296
297
298
299
300
301