Don't be afraid--it's only I!

LADY TORMINSTER. What a start you gave me Why haven't you gone to bed?

SIR GEOFFREY. I'm tired of going to bed. One always has to get up again,
and it becomes monotonous. Why haven't you gone to sleep?

LADY TORMINSTER. I don't know--it's too hot, or something. I've come for a
book.

SIR GEOFFREY. Let me choose one for you.

[_He goes to the table._

LADY TORMINSTER. Why were you sitting in the dark?

SIR GEOFFREY. Because the light annoyed me. What sort of book will you
have? A red one or a green one?

LADY TORMINSTER. Is there a virtue in the colour of the binding?

SIR GEOFFREY. Why not? They're all the same inside. There are three
hundred ways, they say, of cooking a potato--there are as many of dressing
up a lie, and calling it a novel. But it's always the same old lie. Here
take this. [_He hands her a book._] Popular Astronomy. That will send you
to sleep.

LADY TORMINSTER. The stars frighten me. But I'll try it. Good-night.

SIR GEOFFREY. Good-night.

LADY TORMINSTER. And you really had better go to bed.

SIR GEOFFREY. I move as an amendment that you sit down and talk.

LADY TORMINSTER. At this time of night!

SIR GEOFFREY. Why not? It's day in the Antipodes.

LADY TORMINSTER. And in this attire!

[_She glances at her peignoir._

SIR GEOFFREY. Pooh! You are more dressed than you were at dinner. That's
awfully rude, isn't it? But then, you see, you're not my hostess
now--you're a spirit, walking in the night. One can't be polite to
spirits. Sit down, oh shade, and let us converse.

LADY TORMINSTER. [_Hesitating._] I don't know--

SIR GEOFFREY. The household have all retired; and we will make this
concession to Mrs. Grundy--we will leave the door open. There! [_He flings
it open._] The Open Door! Centuries ago, when I was alive, I remember
paragraphs with that heading.

LADY TORMINSTER. [_Laughing._] So you're not alive now?

SIR GEOFFREY. Sir Geoffrey Transom ceased to be when he said good-night to
Lady Torminster. Sir Geoffrey is upstairs asleep. So is her ladyship. We
are their souls. Let us talk.

LADY TORMINSTER. You are in your whimsical mood.

SIR GEOFFREY. And you in your wrapper--peignoir--tea gown--it don't matter
what you call it. You look--jolly. Ridiculous word--I don't mean that at
all. You look--you. More you than I've seen you for years. Sh--don't
interrupt. Shades never do that. By the way, do you know that the old
lumber-room