“Never mind me,” said her cousin kindly; “I’ll look out of the window, if you wish.”
Von Ibn threw his cigarette into the grate.
“You need not look from the window,” he said, laughing; “you may look straight to us, and see two most happy.”
He put his hand on either side of her smile and took the smile to himself. Then she went out.
“I can’t tell you,” the American said warmly, “how glad I am for you both. I do honestly think that she’ll make you very happy. And I hope and pray that you’ll be good to her.”
“I shall be good to her,” said his friend seriously; “I know her well. She is very ‘tendre’ and I love her much; she will not have her own will always, but with her love she will do mine. It is that that makes the life so happy with us. We give much affection and little liberty; it is not well for you, because with you all is so different. In America it is all liberty, and no time for love.”
“Maybe not,” said Jack carelessly; “but we make a lot of money all the same.” He picked up his ulster with the deer-horn buttons. “You’re coming, aren’t you?” he said.
The other man sought an eminently correct overcoat and silk hat in the adjoining room.
“Natürlich,” he said, “you know that I am of at any rate an equal interest with you in what is to be to-morrow.”
Jack laughed.