“I like your pyjamas, Bill,” said Virginia dreamily. “Brightness without vulgarity.”

“While we’re on the subject,” remarked Bill, reaching for his second boot, “I like that thingummybob of yours. It’s a pretty shade of green. What do you call it? It’s not just a dressing-gown, is it?”

“It’s a negligee,” said Virginia. “I’m glad you’ve led such a pure life, Bill.”

“I haven’t,” said Bill indignantly.

“You’ve just betrayed the fact. You’re very nice, Bill, and I like you. I dare say that tomorrow morning⁠—say about ten o’clock, a good safe hour for not unduly exciting the emotions⁠—I might even kiss you.”

“I always think these things are best carried out on the spur of the moment,” suggested Bill.

“We’ve other fish to fry,” said Virginia. “If you don’t want to put on a gas mask and a shirt of chain mail, shall we start?”