He dropped his head on his arms, and so deep was he in his bitter thoughts that he did not hear Mr. Opp come into the room. That gentleman stood for a moment in great embarrassment; then he stepped noiselessly out, and heralded his second coming by rattling the door-knob.
The wind had risen to a gale, and it shrieked about the old house and tugged at the shutters and rattled the panes incessantly.
“You take the big chair,” urged Mr. Opp, who had just put on a fresh log and sent the flames dancing up the chimney; “and here’s a pitcher of hard cider whenever you feel the need of a little refreshment. You ain’t a married man I would judge, Mr. Hinton.”
“Thank the Lord, no!” exclaimed Hinton.
“Well,” said Mr. Opp, pursing his lips and smiling, “you know that’s just where I think us young men are making a mistake.”
[p194]
“Matrimony,” said Hinton, “is about the only catastrophe that hasn’t befallen me during my short and rocky career.”
“See here,” said Mr. Opp, “I used to feel that way, too.”
“Before you met her?” suggested Hinton.
Mr. Opp looked pleased but embarrassed. “I can’t deny there is a young lady,” he said; “but she is quite young as yet. In fact, I don’t mind telling you she’s just about half my age.”
Hinton, instead of putting two and two together, added eighteen to eighteen. “And you are about thirty-six?” he asked.