cup? I don't take sugar."

"It will be a privilege, Silvia."

"Milk?"

"Please."

The hot cafe-au-lait was very grateful. Despite the season, my
long drive through the mountain air had left me a little cold. I
took my seat on an arm of the deep chair. Outside, somewhere
close at hand, a clock struck twelve.

"The witching hour," said I. "How is it you're not in bed and
asleep, Silvia?"

"Sleep! What with the noise of passing cars?"

"I forgot," said I. "The continuous roar of the traffic here
must be very trying. The congestion between here and Villach is
a disgrace. I met three carts in the last forty odd miles
myself. Can't something be done about it?"

"-And the curiosity of cold-wristed burglars- By the way, I can't
get over your climbing up like that, you know. It's all right,
as it happens, and I'm rather glad you did, but this might have
been a bedroom or- or anything."

"Or a bathroom. Of course it might. But then, you see, you very
seldom find a piano in the bathroom nowadays, Silvia.