There was no sign of nervousness or apology in her manner.
Her eyes flashed at him angrily.

She wore a loose red wrap trimmed with white fur, a dishabille unusually and provokingly attractive.
"So you were shamming sleep!" she exclaimed indignantly.
"Entirely," he admitted.
Neither spoke for a moment.

Her eyes fell upon a tumbler of whisky and soda, which stood on a round table drawn up by the side of his easy-chair.
"I have not come to bed thirsty," he assured her.

"I had another one downstairs--to which I helped myself.

This one I brought up to try if I could remember sufficient of my chemistry to determine its contents.