He perched on the edge of the bed, a study in confusion and misery. He landed badly, and crawled away. Then rose and got dressed. He had slept the sleep of the innocent and he drowsed away the morning - He strolled to the window to drink in the view. Swallowing his first coffee cup's worth and smoking his last cigarette fondly, he had a gone feeling when in wonder, How long has it been since she left the house, the room, the bed? He had ought to turned her away but was always too soft-hearted. He still told himself that this would be the last time.