and it seemed that the other ought to be willing to forgive. It was not that Dick was nasty; he treated Trevor with good-humored politeness; fact was, Trevor reflected dubiously, Dick was altogether too polite; his politeness was of the sort which he imagined a judge might display toward the prisoner in the dock. He wished that Dick would throw a boot at him so that they could have it out and come to an understanding.
Dick moved restlessly and opened his eyes. His gaze encountered Trevor’s and he smiled sleepily and stretched himself. Then he sat up and looked about him perplexedly.
“Well, if I didn’t go to sleep!” he said. “What time is it?”
Trevor glanced at the battered alarm-clock on the table. “Ten minutes of twelve,” he answered.
Dick yawned and suddenly spied the dressing-gown. He pulled it toward him and looked at it in astonishment.
“What – ?”
Trevor flushed as he answered hurriedly: “It was so bally chilly here when I came in, you know; and I thought that maybe you’d catch cold. So I threw that over you. Just pitch it on the floor there.”
“Thanks,” said Dick. “I expect it was chilly. I was going to put another stick on the fire, and while I was thinking about it I suppose I fell asleep. It’s pretty late, isn’t it? Well, to-morrow’s Sunday.”
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