“Well?” she said. ” “Oh, neat. Superstition—you knock into it whichever way you turn. His shirt was unfastened, his vest unbuttoned, his hose ungartered; his feet were stuck into a pair of pantoufles, his arms into a greasy flannel dressing-gown, his head into a thrum-cap, the cap into a tie-periwig, and the wig into a gold-edged hat. You would not have believed me, I know well. Abruptly she got out of bed, smoothed her sheet and straightened her pillow and lay down, and fell almost instantly asleep. “Of course,” he ventured, “I could try for more at the ‘Alhambra. The lady reseated herself, watching him expectantly. Greece was a different place. You’re dealing with me now, not Gerald.
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