"Because, if he
does, he is a fool," said she, promptly. But on reflection, she felt sure
he did nothing of the kind habitually, for he had too high an opinion of
himself; she had noted that trait in him at a very early stage. She
satisfied herself, by cautious examination, that he did not know her
room. He was making a temple of the whole lodging. "How ridiculous of
him!" Yet he appeared to be happy over it; there was an exalted look in
his moonlit face; she seemed now first to see his soul there. She studied
his countenance like an inscription, and deciphered each rapt expression
that crossed it; and stored them in her memory.
Twice she heft her ambuscade to go to bed, and twice Curiosity, or
Something, drew her back. At last, having looked, peered, and peeped,
till her feet were cold, and her face the reverse, she informed herself
that the foolish Thing had tired her out.
"Good-night, Mr. Policeman," said she, pretending to bawl to him. "And
oh! Do rain! As hard as ever you can. With this benevolent aspiration, a
little too violent to he sincere, she laid her cheek on her pillow
doughtily.
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