Now he wore a silk dressing-gown of a flamboyant peacock blue, his feet showed bare in toe slippers, his wavy, yellowish hair had the tousled effect of a very recent separation from a pillow.

A cigarette depended from the corner of his mouth.
Larry started to rise.

But the young man arrested the motion with a gesture of mock imperativeness.
"Keep your seat, fair sir; I would fain have speech with thee." He crossed and sat on a corner of Larry's table, one slippered foot dangling, and looked Larry over with an appraising eye.

"Permit me to remark, sir," he continued in his grand manner, "that you look as though you might be some one." "Is that what you wanted to tell me, Mr.Sherwood ?" queried Larry.
The other's grand manner vanished and he grinned.

"Forget the 'Mr.
Sherwood,' or you'll make me feel not at home in my own house," he begged with humorous mournfulness.