Then we both smiled, and eventually laughed. She nodded at a door in the corner of the room.
"Mr. Parslewe came after all," she said.
"I'm aware of it," said I. "He came to see me—some time or other."
"No?" she exclaimed. "What for?"
"Wanted to know if I'd enough blankets, I think," I answered.
"Oh, I hope you had!" she said. "Had you? But how———"
Just then the door in the corner opened and my host entered. I saw then that he was a rather tall, loose-limbed man of probably fifty-five to sixty, with a remarkably intellectual face, sphinx-like in expression, and as I have already said, capable of looking almost fiendishly disagreeable or meltingly sweet. It was sweet enough now as he came forward, offering me his hand with old-fashioned courtesy.
"Good morning, master!" he cooed—no other word expresses his suavity of tone. "I trust you slept well and refreshingly after all your privations."
"My privations, sir, had been of short duration, and their recompense full," I replied,
