visit. A flicker of suspicion suggested that she was trying to compromise him out of revenge for his renouncement of her, but the next instant he rejected this.
The girl accepted the chair Peter offered and continued to look about.
“I hope you don't mind my staring, Peter,” she said.
“I stared when I first came here to stay,” assisted Peter, who was getting a little more like himself, even if a little uneasier at the consequences of this visit.
“Is that a highboy?” She nodded nervously at the piece of furniture. “I've seen pictures of them.”
“Uh huh. Revolutionary, I believe. The night wind is a little raw.” He moved across the room and closed the jalousies, and thus cut off the night wind and also the west view from the street. He glanced at the heavy curtains parted over his front windows, with a keen desire to swing them together. Some fragment of his mind continued the surface conversation with Cissie.
“Is it post-Revolutionary or pre-Revolutionary?” she asked with a preoccupied air.
“Post, I believe. No, pre. I always meant to examine closely.”
“To have such things would almost teach one history,” Cissie said.
“Yeah; very nice.” Peter had decided that the girl was in direct line with the left front window and an opening between the trees to the street.
