"Ah," murmured the Duke with sympathetic resentment of the world's censure, "what of it?"
"There was a lady in Montana," said Hank courteously, "a charming lady she was too, who smoked morning, noon and night, and nobody thought any worse of her."
The lady basked in the approval. Of course, she only smoked very occasionally, a teeny weeny cigarette.
"That woman," said Hank solemnly, "was never without a pipe or a see-gar. Smoked Old Union plug—do you remember her, Duke?"
"Let me see," pondered the Duke, "the lady with the one eye or——"
"Oh, no," corrected Hank, "she died in delirium tremens—no, don't you remember the woman that ran away with Bill Suggley to Denver, she got tried for poisonin' him in '99."
"Oh, yes!" The Duke's face lit up, but Mrs. C. coughed dubiously.
Mr. Roderick Nape called. He was mysterious and shot quick glances round the room and permitted himself to smile quietly.
They had the conventional opening. The Duke was very glad to see him, and he was delighted to make the acquaintance of the Duke. What extraordinary weather they had been having!
Indeed, agreed the Duke, it was extraordinary.