"What can a man wish for more? A good dinner, the sweetest of company, a fine cigar--it was right, was it not, Nansie, for me to keep back three hundred of my choicest?"
"Quite right," replied Nansie, "and very thoughtful of you. I love the smell of a good cigar."
"When I put them aside," said Kingsley, holding up a reproving forefinger, "I thought only of myself. I reflected that it might be some time before I could afford to buy more of the same kind."
"Kingsley," said Nansie, pleadingly.
"Yes, dear," he responded.
"I want you to understand something."
"Anything you wish, Nansie. Let me know what it is."
"Only that your disparagement of yourself hurts me, dear. Knowing that there is nothing in the world you would not do for my sake, it is painful to me to think that you may grow into the habit of believing that everything you do is done with a selfish motive. It is not so--indeed, it is not so!"
"How seriously you speak, Nansie!" said Kingsley, drawing her close to him. "Do you really mean to say that I am not selfish?"
"If there is in the world a man who has proved himself otherwise, it is you, my dear," said Nansie, laying her head upon his shoulder. "Be just to yourself, in justification of me."