"How'd some Lynnhavens taste to you for a starter, Peachy?" "Fine, whatever they are." A liveried attendant bowed them up the steps. A woman in blue velvet, her white arms bare to the shoulder and stars in her hair, paused in the doorway to drop her cloak. Her heavy perfume drifted out to meet them. Sadie Barnet's clutch of her companion's arm quickened and her thoughts ran forward. "Jerry--gee! wouldn't I look swell in--in a dress like that? Gee! Jerry, stars and all!" The cords in the muscles of his arm rose under her fingers. "Them ain't one-two-three-six to the duds I'm going to hang on you. I know her; she's an old-timer. Them duds ain't one-two-three-six." "Gee--Jerry!" In the heart of a silence as deep as a bottomless pool, with the black hours that tiptoe on the heels of midnight shrouding her like a nun's wimple, limbs trembling and her hands reluctant, Sadie Barnet knocked lightly at her door, once, twice, thrice, and between each rap her heart beat with twice its tempo against her breast. Then her stealthy hand turned the white china knob and released it so that it sprang backward with a click. "Who's that?" "Me, Dee Dee." Her voice was swathed in a whisper. She could hear the plong of the bedspring, the patter of bare feet across the floor; feel the slight aperture of the opening door. She oozed through the slit. "All right, Dee Dee." "God! I--I must have been sound asleep. What time is it?" "It isn't late, Dee Dee." "Light the gas." "I--I can undress in the dark." "Light the gas." "I--" "Light it, I say." "It's lit, Dee Dee." The figure in the center of the room, in her high-necked, long-sleeved nightdress, her sparse hair drawn with unpleasant tension from her brow, her pale eyes wide, moved forward a step, one bare foot, calloused even across the instep, extended. "Lit?" "Dee Dee, what's the matter?" "Gimme--my glasses." She took them from Miss Barnet's trembling ringers and curved them about her ears. "Quit your nonsense now and light the gas. I ain't in no humor for foolin'. Quit waving that little spark in front of me. Light the gas. I ain't going to look at the clock. I'm done worrying about your carryings-on. I'm done. Light the gas, Sadie, there's a good girl. Light the gas." "Dee Dee! My God! Dee Dee, I--I tell you it's lit--big." "There's a good girl, Sadie. Don't fool your old aunt." "See, dearie, I ain't fooling. See, the gas-jet here beside the dresser. Look--I can't turn it no higher. Hear it sing and splutter. You ain't awake good yet, Dee Dee." Silence--the ear-splitting silence that all in its brief moment is crammed with years and years upon years. A cold gray wash seemed suddenly to flow over Miss Worte's face. "Put my finger next to the gas flame. You--you're lying to me to--to fool your old aunt. Lemme feel my finger get burnt."