"I'm sorry," said McKinnon, backing away from the chair that she might take it if she chose. "I'm sorry, but I've just stopped for the night."
For the first time he was conscious of the fact that he had been at work in his shirt-sleeves, and that these sleeves were wofully soiled. He took down his coat and struggled into it. The young woman noticed the movement gratefully and sank into the chair he had abandoned for her.
"But can you not get somebody?" she asked. There was no note of pleading, in her voice, but the mute appeal of her eyes as they rested on his made him suddenly change his mind.
"I've been having trouble with that tuner of mine," he explained. "It's rather hard for us to pick up anything on a thick night like this, you know. But I'll try."
She bent a little to one side as he leaned over the table and threw down the switch-lever. They were side by side, almost touching each other.
"Why is it hard?" she asked.
"It's not easy to explain without being technical, but wireless works 'heavy' in damp weather. You may have noticed it with telephones, even, on rainy days."
