"Oh, yes! I'm thoroughly smoke-cured."
I dropped upon a bench and drew forth my materials, while she lay and eyed me with her inscrutable stare.
"You're a funny man!" she declared, presently, her flexible lips twisting into an odd smile.
I chuckled, and jammed the tobacco in the bowl.
"How do you get that?" I ventured.
"Why didn't you ask to share the hammock with me?"
Now though I knew something of woman's ways and woman's wiles, I felt a blush rising, and to hide it I dropped the match I held and bent over to pick it up. Clearly his reverence's niece was bent on a flirtation wherewith to while away the days of her exile. It is needless to say that in my present state of mind I had no heart for dalliance of this sort, but I realized that I must not offend her, so I struck the match on the sole of my shoe and slowly lighted my pipe, thinking hard all the time of what I should say.
"You looked so very comfortable," I replied jocularly, between puffs, "that I could not bring myself to make the request. And—you lay down, you know, as though you wanted it all to yourself."
With a quick, lithe movement she turned on her side, rested her cheek on her hand, and retorted:
"Was that idea really in your mind before I spoke? The truth, mind you!"