There was nothing Bubbles could do which would surprise Donnington _now_.
"Don't shut your door," he muttered.

"It might wake someone up.

Just blow out the candles, and leave the door open." She obeyed him; and then he took her arm--again blinded by the sudden obscurity in which they were now plunged.
"I hate going downstairs," she said fretfully.

"Somehow I feel as if downstairs were full of Them!" "Full of _them_ ?" he repeated.

"What on earth do you mean, Bubbles ?" And Bubbles murmured fearfully: "You know perfectly well what I mean.
And it's all my fault--all my fault!" He whispered rather sternly back: "Yes, Bubbles, it _is_ your fault.