fire.

When I looked round, she was lighting the candles.



"You mustn't go to bed at once," I said, pushing back my chair.
"It's bad for the digestion. Sit by the fire a little, as you
did before. Wait a moment. I'll give you a cigarette."

I settled her amid cushions, put out the candles, and struck the
red fire into flames.

"But where will you sit, Adam?"

"I shall lean elegantly against the chimney-piece and tell you a
fairy story."

"I'm all for the story, but I think you'd better be a child and
sit on the hearthrug, too. There's plenty of room."

"A child," said I, sitting down by her side. "My dear, do you
realize that I'm as old as the Cotswold Hills."

"There now, Adam. And so am I."

"No," I said firmly, "certainly not."

"But- "