He
couldn't find his evening shoes; he couldn't get his studs into his
stiff shirt until he had had a struggle that raised his temperature
several degrees higher than it was already; the big, jolly teamful
departed while he was rummaging through his top drawer for fresh
handkerchiefs; and he was vainly trying to adjust his white tie
satisfactorily, when a knock at the door informed him that he was not
alone in the house after all; he said "come in" crossly, and without
turning, and went on with his futile attempts.
"Has every one else gone? I didn't know I was so late--but I've been all
through the house downstairs calling, and couldn't get any answer. Let me
do that for you--let's take a fresh one--"
He wheeled sharply around, and found Sylvia standing beside
him--Sylvia, dressed in shell-pink, shimmering satin and foamy lace,
with pearls in her dark hair and golden slippers on her feet, her neck
and arms white and bare and gleaming. With a little sound that was half
a sob, and half a cry of joy, she flung her arms around his neck and
drew his face down to hers.
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