Night fell, the autumn wind rustled.
The fireplace in the living room was lit by the servants. After dinner, Jenny lounged on the sofa, reading a book, with three or four lamps lit around her.
She had planned to wait for Zweit to return and ask for details, then boast about her achievements today. Feeling drowsy, she covered her face with the book and fell into a deep sleep.
It was midnight when Zweit finally came home. He had been out dining with partners and subordinates, talking a lot to paint rosy pictures and drinking quite a bit of champagne. His head was still buzzing.
Hearing the butler embellish how Jenny had waited for him upstairs in the living room until late, he hurried upstairs. But when he reached the living room door, he looked around and couldn't find her.
Walking to the fireplace, he took off his coat and turned to see Jenny sprawled ridiculously on the sofa, sleeping in a tangled heap—one foot hanging off the ground, a book covering her face, about to slip off, and half a grape still in her hand.
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