“I agree with you,” said Jack. “When I smoke I fill my pipe and make a business of it.”
“Well, my advice to you, Mr. De Vinne, is to give up the habit before it becomes too firmly fixed upon you. You will be getting married one of these days. Perhaps your wife may not object openly to your smoking, but secretly she will wish you did not.”
Jack felt that Mr. Glynne had broken the ice for him. “If I can get the girl I wish for my wife,” he said, “I will throw my pipe into the river and the tobacco after it.”
There was a broad smile upon Mr. Glynne’s face. “Then you have not asked her?”
“Oh, no,” said Jack, “there was a preliminary step that must come first.”
“And when will that be taken?”
“I think now is a good time,” said Jack, in a nonchalant way. “The fact is, Mr. Glynne, I have fallen deeply in love with your ward, Miss Renville.”
Mr. Glynne recoiled and would have measured his length on the floor if Jack had not sprung forward and prevented.
“I must have caught my boot-heel in the rug,” said Mr. Glynne, as he recovered his physical equilibrium; his mental equilibrium, though, was greatly out of joint. “Mr. De Vinne,” he began, “I am really surprised at what you say. Take it altogether, you have not known the young lady more than forty-eight hours. Of course, under the circumstances of your first meeting, it is but natural that you should feel an interest in her, for she is really a very beautiful girl.”
“She is an angel,” ejaculated Jack, fervently.