Energy books

"Allow me to
arrange your rug for you. Miss Guile."
"Thank you, no. I think I would better go inside. It is really too
windy--"
"The wind can't get at you back here in this cubbyhole," he
protested. "Do sit down. I'll have you as snug as a bug in a rug
before you can say Jack Robinson. See! Now stick 'em out and I'll
wrap it around them. There! You're as neatly done up as a mummy and a
good deal better off, because you are a long way short of being two
thousand years old."
"How is your head, Mr. Schmidt?" she inquired with grave concern.
"You seem to be quite crazy. I hope--"
"Every one is a little bit mad, don't you think? Especially in
moments of great excitement. I daresay my head _has_ been turned
quite appreciably, and I'm glad that you've been kind enough to
notice it. Where is Mrs. Gaston?" He was vastly exhilarated.
She regarded him with eyes that sparkled and belied the unamiable
nature of her reply.
"The poor lady is where she is not at all likely to be annoyed, Mr.
Schmidt."
Then she took up a magazine and coolly began to run through the
pages.


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