And toward the conclusion of his slumbers, he had this singular adventure: a lady set her foot down within less than half an inch of his nose--and neither of them knew it.

Verman slept on, without being wakened by either the closing or the opening of the door.

What did rouse him was something ample and soft falling upon him--Margaret's cape, which slid from the hook after she had gone.
Enveloped in its folds, Verman sat up, corkscrewing his knuckles into the corners of his eyes.

Slowly he became aware of two important vacuums--one in time and one in his stomach.

Hours had vanished strangely into nowhere; the game of bonded prisoner was something cloudy and remote of the long, long ago, and, although Verman knew where he was, he had partially forgotten how he came there.