The Man Without A Temperament
Mansfield

.. 

  He stood at the hall door turning the ring, turning the
heavy signet ring upon his little finger while his
glance travelled coolly, deliberately, over the round tables and
basket chairs scattered about the glassed-in veranda. He
pursed his lips -- he might have been going to whistle -- but he
did not whistle -- only turned the ring -- turned the ring on his
pink, freshly washed hands.
  Over in the corner sat The Two Topknots, drinking a decoction
they always drank at this hour -- something whitish,
greyish, in glasses, with little husks floating on the top -- and
rooting in a tin full of paper shavings for pieces of speckled
biscuit, which they broke, dropped into the glasses and fished
for with spoons. Their two coils of knitting, like two snakes,
slumbered beside the tray.
  The American Woman sat where she always sat against the
glass wall, in the shadow of a great creeping thing with wide
open purple eyes that pressed -- that flattened itself against the
glass, hungrily watching her. And she knoo it was there -- she
knoo it was looking at her just that way. She played up to it;
she gave herself little airs. Sometimes she even pointed at
it, crying: "Isn't that the most terrible thing you've ever
seen! Isn't that ghoulish!" It was on the other side of the
veranda, after all... and besides it couldn't touch her, could
it, Klaymongso? She was an American Woman, wasn't she,
Klaymongso, and she'd just go right away to her Consul. Klaymongso,
curled in her lap, with her torn antique brocade bag,
a grubby handkerchief, and a pile of letters from home on top
of him, sneezed for reply.
  The other tables were empty. A glance passed between the
American and the Topknots. She gave a foreign little shrug;
they waved an
.. 

understanding biscuit. But he saw nothing.
Now he was still, now from his eyes you saw he listened.
"Hoo-e-zip-zoo-oo!" sounded the lift. The iron cage clanged
open. Light dragging steps sounded across the hall, coming
towards him. A hand, like a leaf, fell on his shoulder. A soft
voice said: "Let's go and sit over there -- where we can see
the drive. The trees are so lovely." And he moved forward
with the hand still on his shoulder, and the light, dragging steps
beside his. He pulled out a chair and she sank into it, slowly,
leaning her head against the back, her arms falling along the
sides.
  "Won't you bring the other up closer? It's such miles away."
But he did not move.
  "Where's your shawl?" he asked.
  "Oh!" She gave a little groan of dismay. "How silly I
am, I've left it upstairs on the bed. Never mind. Please don't
go for it. I shan't want it, I know I shan't."
  "You'd better have it." And he turned and swiftly crossed
the veranda into the dim hall with its scarlet plush and gilt
furniture -- conjuror's furniture -- its Notice of Services at the
English Church, its green baize board with the unclaimed letters
climbing the black lattice, huge "Presentation" clock that struck
the hours at the half-hours, bundles of sticks and umbrellas and
sunshades in the clasp of a brown wooden bear, past the two
crippled palms, two ancient beggars at the foot of the staircase,
up the marble stairs three at a time, past the life-size group on
the landing of two stout peasant children with their marble
pinnies full of marble grapes, and along the corridor, with its
piled-up wreckage of old tin boxes, leather trunks, canvas hold-alls,
to their room.
  The servant girl was in their room, singing loudly while she
emptied soapy water into a pail. The windows were open wide,
the shutters put back, and the light glared in. She had thrown
the carpets and the big white pillows over the balcony rails;


the nets were looped up from the beds; on the writing-table
there stood a pan of fluff and match-ends. When she saw him
her small, impudent eyes snapped and her singing changed to
humming. But he gave no sign. His eyes searched the glaring
room. Where the devil was the shawl!
  "V_o_u_s_ d_e_s_i_r_e_z_, m_o_n_s_i_e_u_r_?" mocked the servant girl.
.. 

  No answer. He had seen it. He strode across the room,
grabbed the grey cobweb and went out, banging the door. The
servant girl's voice at its loudest and shrillest followed him
along the corridor.
  "Oh, there you are. What happened? What kept you?
The tea's here, you see. I've just sent Antonio off for the hot
water. Isn't it extraordinary? I must have told him about it
sixty times at least, and still he doesn't bring it. Thank you.
That's very nice. One does just feel the air when one bends
forward."
  "Thanks." He took his tea and sat down in the other chair.
"No, nothing to eat."
  "Oh do! Just one, you had so little at lunch and it's hours
before dinner."
  Her shawl dropped off as she bent forward to hand him the
biscuits. He took one and put it in his saucer.
  "Oh, those trees along the drive," she cried. "I could look
at them for ever. They are like the most exquisite huge ferns.
And you see that one with the grey-silver bark and the clusters
of cream-coloured flowers, I pulled down a head of them
yesterday to smell, and the scent" -- she shut her eyes at the
memory and her voice thinned away, faint, airy -- "was like
freshly ground nutmegs." A little pause. She turned to him
and smiled. "You do know what nutmegs smell like -- do
you, Robert?"
  And he smiled back at her. "Now how am I going to prove
to you that I do?"
  Back came Antonio with not only the hot water -- with
letters on a salver and three rolls of paper.


  "Oh, the post! Oh, how lovely! Oh, Robert, they mustn't
be all for you! Have they just come, Antonio?" Her thin
hands flew up and hovered over the letters that Antonio offered
her, bending forward.
  "Just this moment, Signora," grinned Antonio. "I took-a
them from the postman myself. I made-a the postman give
them for me."
  "Noble Antonio!" laughed she. "There -- those are mine,
Robert; the rest are yours!'
  Antonio wheeled sharply, stiffened, the grin went out of
his face. His striped linen jacket and his flat gleaming fringe
made him look like a wooden doll.
  Mr. Salesby put the letters into his pocket; the papers lay
on the
.. 

table. He turned the ring, turned the signet ring on his
little finger and stared in front of him, blinking, vacant.
  But she -- with her teacup in one hand, the sheets of thin
paper in the other, her head tilted back, her lips open, a brush
of bright colour on her cheek-bones, sipped, sipped, drank...
drank...
  "From Lottie," came her soft murmur. "Poor dear...such
trouble...left foot. She thought...neuritis...Doctor
Blyth...flat foot...massage. So many robins this year...
maid most satisfactory...Indian Colonel...every grain of
rice separate...very heavy fall of snow." And her wide
lighted eyes looked up from the letter. "Snow, Robert!
Think of it!" And she touched the little dark violets pinned
on her thin bosom and went back to the letter.
...Snow. Snow in London. Millie with the early morning
cup of tea. "There's been a terrible fall of snow in the night,
sir." "Oh, has there, Millie?" The curtains ring apart, letting
in the pale, reluctant light. He raises himself in the bed; he
catches a glimpse of the solid houses opposite framed in white,
of their window boxes full of great sprays of white coral....In
the bathroom -- overlooking the back garden. Snow -- heavy


snow over everything. The lawn is covered with a wavy
pattern of cat's paws; there is a thick, thick icing on the garden
table; the withered pods of the laburnum tree are white tassels;
only here and there in the ivy is a dark leaf showing...Warming
his back at the dining-room fire, the paper drying over a
chair. Millie with the bacon. "Oh, if you please, sir, there's
two little boys come as will do the steps and front for a shilling,
shall I let them?"...And then flying lightly, lightly down the
stairs -- Jinnie. "Oh, Robert, isn't it wonderful! Oh, what a
pity it has to melt. Where's the pussy-wee?" "I'll get him
from Millie"..."Millie, you might just hand me up the kitten
if you've got him down there." "Very good, sir." He feels
the little beating heart under his hand. "Come on, old chap,
your missus wants you." "Oh, Robert, do show him the
snow -- his first snow. Shall I open the window and give him
a little piece on his paw to hold?"
  "Well, that's very satisfactory on the whole -- very. Poor
Lottie! Darling Anne! How I only wish I could send them
something of
.. 

this," she cried, waving her letters at the brilliant,
dazzling garden. "More tea, Robert? Robert dear, more tea?"
  "No, thanks, no. It was very good," he drawled.
  "Well, mine wasn't. Mine was just like chopped hay. Oh,
here comes the Honeymoon Couple."
  Half striding, half running, carrying a basket between them
and rods and lines, they came up the drive, up the shallow steps.
  "My! have you been out fishing?" cried the American
Woman.
  They were out of breath, they panted: "Yes, yes, we
have been out in a little boat all day. We have caught
seven. Four are good to eat. But three we shall give away.
To the children."
  Mrs. Salesby turned her chair to look; the Topknots laid
the snakes down. They were a very dark young couple -- black
hair, olive skin, brilliant eyes and teeth. He was dressed


"English fashion" in a flannel jacket, white trousers and shoes.
Round his neck he wore a silk scarf; his head, with his hair
brushed back, was bare. And he kept mopping his forehead,
rubbing his hands with a brilliant handkerchief. Her white
skirt had a patch of wet; her neck and throat were stained a
deep pink. When she lifted her arms big half-hoops of perspiration
showed under her arm-pits; her hair clung in wet curls to
her cheeks. She looked as though her young husband had
been dipping her in the sea and fishing her out again to dry in
the sun and then -- in with her again -- all day.
  "Would Klaymongso like a fish?" they cried. Their
laughing voices charged with excitement beat against the
glassed-in veranda like birds and a strange, saltish smell came
from the basket.
  "You will sleep well to-night," said a Topknot, picking her
ear with a knitting needle while the other Topknot smiled and
nodded.
  The Honeymoon Couple looked at each other. A great wave
seemed to go over them. They gasped, gulped, staggered a
little and then came up laughing -- laughing.
  "We cannot go upstairs, we are too tired. We must have
tea just as we are. Here -- coffee. No -- tea. No -- coffee.
Tea -- coffee, Antonio!" Mrs. Salesby turned.
  "Robert! Robert!" Where was he? He wasn't there.
Oh, there he was at the other end of the veranda, with his
back turned, smoking a cigarette. "Robert, shall we go for
our little turn?"
.. 

  "Right." He stumped the cigarette into an ash-tray and
sauntered over, his eyes on the ground. "Will you be warm
enough?"
  "Oh, quite."
  "Sure?"
  "Well," she put her hand on his arm, "perhaps" -- and
gave his arm the faintest pressure -- "it's not upstairs, it's only in
the hall -- perhaps you'd get me my cape. Hanging up."


He came back with it and she bent her small head while he
dropped it on her shoulders. Then, very stiff, he offered her
his arm. She bowed sweetly to the people on the veranda
while he just covered a yawn, and they went down the steps
together.
  "V_o_u_s_ a_v_e_z_ v_o_o_ c2_a_!" said the American Woman.
  "He is not a man," said the Two Topknots, "he is an ox.
I say to my sister in the morning and at night when we are in
bed, I tell her -- N_o_ man is he, but an ox!"
  Wheeling, tumbling, swooping, the laughter of the Honeymoon
Couple dashed against the glass of the veranda.
  The sun was still high. Every leaf, every flower in the
garden lay open, motionless, as if exhausted, and a sweet, rich
rank smell filled the quivering air. Out of the thick, fleshy
leaves of a cactus there rose an aloe stem loaded with pale
flowers that looked as though they had been cut out of butter;
light flashed upon the lifted spears of the palms; over a bed of
scarlet waxen flowers some big black insects "zoom-zoomed";
a great, gaudy creeper, orange splashed with jet, sprawled
against a wall.
  "I don't need my cape after all," said she. "It's really too
warm." So he took it off and carried it over his arm. "Let
us go down this path here. I feel so well to-day -- marvellously
better. Good heavens -- look at those children! And to think
it's November!"
  In a corner of the garden there were two brimming tubs of
water. Three little girls, having thoughtfully taken off their
drawers and hung them on a bush, their skirts clasped to their
waists, were standing in the tubs and tramping up and down.
They screamed, their hair fell over their faces, they splashed one
another. But suddenly, the smallest, who had a tub to herself,
glanced up and saw who was looking. For a moment she
seemed overcome with terror, then clumsily she struggled and
strained out of her tub, and still holding her clothes above her
.. 

waist, "The Englishman! The Englishman!" she shrieked


and fled away to hide. Shrieking and screaming the other two
followed her. In a moment they were gone; in a moment there
was nothing but the two brimming tubs and their little drawers
on the bush.
  "How -- very -- extraordinary!" said she. "What made
them so frightened? Surely they were much too young to..."
She looked up at him. She thought he looked pale -- but
wonderfully handsome with that great tropical tree behind him
with its long, spiked thorns.
  For a moment he did not answer. Then he met her glance,
and smiling his slow smile, "T_r_e\_s_ rum!" said he.
  T_r_e\_s_ rum! Oh, she felt quite faint. Oh, why should she
love him so much just because he said a thing like that. T_r_e\_s_
rum! That was Robert all over. Nobody else but Robert
could ever say such a thing. To be so wonderful, so brilliant,
so learned, and then to say in that queer, boyish voice...She
could have wept.
  "You know you're very absurd, sometimes," said she.
  "I am," he answered. And they walked on.
  But she was tired. She had had enough. She did not want
to walk any more.
  "Leave me here and go for a little constitutional, won't
you? I'll be in one of these long chairs. What a good thing
you've got my cape; you won't have to go upstairs for a rug.
Thank you, Robert, I shall look at that delicious heliotrope...
You won't be gone long?"
  "No -- no. You don't mind being left?"
  "Silly! I want you to go. I can't expect you to drag after
your invalid wife every minute.... How long will you be?"
  He took out his watch. "It's just after half-past four. I'll
be back at a quarter-past five."
  "Back at a quarter-past five," she repeated, and she lay still
in the long chair and folded her hands.
  He turned away. Suddenly he was back again. "Look here,
would you like my watch?" And he dangled it before her.


  "Oh!" She caught her breath. "Very, very much." And
she clasped the watch, the warm watch, the darling watch in
her fingers. "Now go quickly."
.. 

  The gates of the Pension Villa Excelsior were open wide,
jammed open against some bold geraniums. Stooping a little,
staring straight ahead, walking swiftly, he passed through them
and began climbing the hill that wound behind the town like a
great rope looping the villas together. The dust lay thick. A
carriage came bowling along driving towards the Excelsior.
In it sat the General and the Countess; they had been for his
daily airing. Mr. Salesby stepped to one side but the dust beat
up, thick, white, stifling like wool. The Countess just had
time to nudge the General.
  "There he goes," she said spitefully.
  But the General gave a loud caw and refused to look.
  "It is the Englishman," said the driver, turning round and
smiling. And the Countess threw up her hands and nodded
so amiably that he spat with satisfaction and gave the stumbling
horse a cut.
  On -- on -- past the finest villas in the town, magnificent
palaces, palaces worth coming any distance to see, past the
public gardens with the carved grottoes and statues and stone
animals drinking at the fountain, into a poorer quarter. Here
the road ran narrow and foul between high lean houses, the
ground floors of which were scooped and hollowed into stables
and carpenters' shops. At a fountain ahead of him two old
hags were beating linen. As he passed them they squatted
back on their haunches, stared, and then their "A-hak-kak-kak!"
with the slap, slap, of the stone on the linen sounded
after him.
  He reached the top of the hill; he turned a corner and the
town was hidden. Down he looked into a deep valley with a
dried-up river bed at the bottom. This side and that was
covered with small dilapidated houses that had broken stone
verandas where the fruit lay drying, tomato lanes in the


garden and from the gates to the doors a trellis of vines. The
late sunlight, deep, golden, lay in the cup of the valley; there
was a smell of charcoal in the air. In the gardens the men were
cutting grapes. He watched a man standing in the greenish
shade, raising up, holding a black cluster in one hand, taking the
knife from his belt, cutting, laying the bunch in a flat boat-shaped
basket. The man worked leisurely, silently, taking
hundreds of years over the job. On the hedges on the other
side of the road there were grapes small as berries, growing
wild, growing among
.. 

the stones. He leaned against a wall,
filled his pipe, put a match to it...
  Leaned across a gate, turned up the collar of his mackintosh.
It was going to rain. It didn't matter, he was prepared for it.
You didn't expect anything else in November. He looked over
the bare field. From the corner by the gate there came the smell
of swedes, a great stack of them, wet, rank coloured. Two
men passed walking towards the straggling village. "Good
day!" "Good day!" By Jove! he had to hurry if he was
going to catch that train home. Over the gate, across a field,
over the stile, into the lane, swinging along in the drifting rain
and dusk... Just home in time for a bath and a change before
supper...In the drawing-room; Jinnie is sitting pretty nearly
in the fire. "Oh, Robert, I didn't hear you come in. Did you
have a good time? How nice you smell! A present?" "Some
bits of blackberry I picked for you. Pretty colour." "Oh,
lovely, Robert! Dennis and Beaty are coming to supper."
Supper -- cold beef, potatoes in their jackets, claret, household
bread. They are gay -- everybody's laughing. "Oh, we all
know Robert," says Dennis, breathing on his eyeglasses and
polishing them. "By the way, Dennis, I picked up a very jolly
little edition of..."
  A clock struck. He wheeled sharply. What time was it.
Five? A quarter past? Back, back the way he came. As he


passed through the gates he saw her on the look-out. She got
up, waved and slowly she came to meet him, dragging the heavy
cape. In her hand she carried a spray of heliotrope.
  "You're late," she cried gaily. "You're three minutes late.
Here's your watch, it's been very good while you were away.
Did you have a nice time? Was it lovely? Tell me. Where
did you go?"
  "I say -- put this o_n_," he said, taking the cape from her.
  "Yes, I will. Yes, it's getting chilly. Shall we go up to our
room?"
  When they reached the lift she was coughing. He frowned.
"It's nothing. I haven't been out too late. Don't be cross."
She sat down on one of the red plush chairs while he rang and
rang, and then, getting no answer, kept his finger on the bell.
  "Oh, Robert, do you think you ought to?"
.. 

  "Ought to what?"
  The door of the s_a_l_o_n_ opened. "What is that? Who is
making that noise?" sounded from within. Klaymongso began
to yelp. "Caw! Caw! Caw!" came from the General. A
Topknot darted out with one hand to her ear, opened the staff
door, "Mr Queet! Mr. Queet!" she bawled. That brought
the manager up at a run.
  "Is that you ringing the bell, Mr. Salesby? Do you want the
lift? Very good, sir. I'll take you up myself. Antonio wouldn't
have been a minute, he was just taking off his apron -- " And
having ushered them in, the oily manager went to the door of
the s_a_l_o_n_. "Very sorry you should have been troubled, ladies
and gentlemen." Salesby stood in the cage, sucking in his
cheeks, staring at the ceiling and turning the ring, turning the
signet ring on his little finger...
  Arrived in their room he went swiftly over to the washstand,
shook the bottle, poured her out a dose and brought it across.
  "Sit down. Drink it. And don't talk." And he stood over
her while she obeyed. Then he took the glass, rinsed it and
put it back in its case. "Would you like a cushion?"


  "No, I'm quite all right. Come over here. Sit down by
me just a minute, will you, Robert? Ah, that's very nice."
She turned and thrust the piece of heliotrope in the lapel of
his coat. "That," she said, "is most becoming." And then
she leaned her head against his shoulder and he put his arm
round her.
  "Robert -- " her voice like a sigh -- like a breath.
  "Yes -- "
  They sat there for a long while. The sky flamed, paled;
the two white beds were like two ships... At last he heard the
servant girl running along the corridor with the hot-water
cans, and gently released her and turned on the light.
  "Oh, what time is it? Oh, what a heavenly evening. Oh,
Robert, I was thinking while you were away this afternoon..."
  They were the last couple to enter the dining-room. The
Countess was there with her lorgnette and her fan, the General
was there with his special chair and the air cushion and the
small rug over his knees. The American Woman was there
showing Klaymongso a copy of the S_a_t_u_r_d_a_y_ E_v_e_n_i_n_g_ P_o_s_t_.
..."We're having a feast of reason and a flow of soul." The
Two Topknots were there feeling over the
.. 

peaches and the
pears in their dish of fruit and putting aside all they considered
unripe or overripe to show  to the manager, and the Honeymoon
Couple leaned across the table, whispering, trying not to burst
out laughing.
  Mr. Queet, in everyday clothes and white canvas shoes,
served the soup, and Antonio, in full evening dress, handed it
round.
  "No," said the American Woman, "take it away, Antonio.
We can't eat soup. We can't eat anything mushy, can we,
Klaymongso?"
  "Take them back and fill them to the rim!" said the Topknots,
and they turned and watched while Antonio delivered
the message.
  "What is it? Rice? Is it cooked?" The Countess peered


through her lorgnette. "Mr. Queet, the General can have
some of this soup if it is cooked."
  "Very good, Countess."
  The Honeymoon Couple had their fish instead.
  "Give me that one. That's the one I caught. No, it's not.
Yes, it is. No, it's not. Well, it's looking at me with its eye,
so it must be. Tee! Hee! Hee!" Their feet were locked
together under the table.
  "Robert, you're not eating again. Is anything the matter?"
  "No. Off food, that's all."
  "Oh, what a bother. There are eggs and spinach coming.
You don't like spinach, do you. I must tell them in future..."
  An egg and mashed potatoes for the General.
  "Mr. Queet! Mr. Queet!"
  "Yes, Countess."
  "The General's egg's too hard again."
  "Caw! Caw! Caw!"
  "Very sorry, Countess. Shall I have you another cooked,
General?"
...They are the first to leave the dining-room. She rises,
gathering her shawl and he stands aside, waiting for her to
pass, turning the ring, turning the signet ring on his little finger.
In the hall Mr. Queet hovers. "I thought you might not want
to wait for the lift. Antonio's just serving the finger bowls.
And I'm sorry the bell won't ring, it's out of order. I can't
think what's happened."
  "Oh, I do hope..." from her.
  Get in," says he.
.. 

  Mr. Queet steps after them and slams the door...
  "...Robert, do you mind if I go to bed very soon? Won't
you go down to the s_a_l_o_n_ or out into the garden? Or perhaps
you might smoke a cigar on the balcony. It's lovely out there.
And I like cigar smoke. I always did. But if you'd rather..."
  "No, I'll sit here."
  He takes a chair and sits on the balcony. He hears her


moving about in the room, lightly, lightly, moving and rustling.
Then she comes over to him. "Good night, Robert."
  "Good night." He takes her hand and kisses the palm.
"Don't catch cold."
  The sky is the colour of jade. There are a great many stars;
an emormous white moon hangs over the garden. Far away
lightning flutters -- flutters like a wing -- flutters like a broken
bird that tries to fly and sinks again and again struggles.
  The lights from the s_a_l_o_n_ shine across the garden path and
there is the sound of a piano. And once the American Woman,
opening the French window to let Klaymongso into the garden,
cries: "Have you seen this moon?" But nobody answers.
  He gets very cold sitting there, staring at the balcony rail.
Finally he comes inside. The moon -- the room is painted white
with moonlight. The light trembles in the mirrors; the two
beds seem to float. She is asleep. He sees her through the
nets, half sitting, banked up with pillows, her white hands
crossed on the sheet. Her white cheeks, her fair hair pressed
against the pillow, are silvered over. He undresses quickly,
stealthily and gets into bed. Lying there, his hands clasped
behind his head...
...In his study. Late summer. The virginia creeper just
on the turn...
  "Well, my dear chap, that's the whole story. That's the
long and short of it. If she can't cut away for the next two
years and give a decent climate a chance she don't stand a dog's
 -- h'm -- show. Better be frank about these things." "Oh,
certainly..." "And hang it all, old man, what's to prevent
you going with her? It isn't as though you've got a regular
job like us wage earners. You can do what you do wherever
you are -- " "Two years." "Yes, I should give it two years.
.. 

You'll have no trouble about letting this house, you know. As
a matter of fact..."
...He is with her. "Robert, the awful thing is -- I suppose

 
it's my illness -- I simply feel I could not go alone. You see --
you're everything. You're bread and wine, Robert, bread and
wine. Oh, my darling -- what am I saying? Of course I could,
of course I won't take you away..."
  He hears her stirring. Does she want something?
  "Boogles?"
  Good Lord! She is talking in her sleep. They haven't used
that name for years.
  "Boogles. Are you awake?"
  "Yes, do you want anything?"
  "Oh, I'm going to be a bother. I'm sorry. Do you mind?
There's a wretched mosquito inside my net -- I can hear him
singing. Would you catch him? I don't want to move because
of my heart."
  "No, don't move. Stay where you are." He switches on
the light, lifts the net. "Where is the little beggar? Have you
spotted him?"
  "Yes, there, over by the corner. Oh, I do feel such a
fiend to have dragged you out of bed. Do you mind
dreadfully?"
  "No, of course not." For a moment he hovers in his blue
and white pyjamas. Then, "got him," he said.
  "Oh, good. Was he a juicy one?"
  "Beastly." He went over to the washstand and dipped his
fingers in water. "Are you all right now? Shall I switch off
the light?"
  "Yes, please. No. Boogles! Come back here a moment.
Sit down by me. Give me your hand." She turns his signet
ring. "Why weren't you asleep? Boogles, listen. Come
closer. I sometimes wonder -- do you mind awfully being out
here with me?"
  He bends down. He kisses her. He tucks her in, he smooths
the pillow.
  "Rot!" he whispers.