"John, come upstairs; I want to look at you, and I want to talk to you."
She took him up to the small library, which looked very cozy with its fire in the big grate and the heavy English curtains drawn at the windows.
"Now set down there in that chair, John. It was made for a man—no woman could ever get out of it without help once she got in—and tell me all about yourself, John."
John looked around the luxurious room in a hesitating manner.
"I hardly know what to say, Drusilla—I can't understand all this—I can't understand."
"Never mind, John; it's all real. I know how you feel. I felt that way myself for the first few weeks; but now I'm gettin' used to it."
"Is—is—this place yours, Drusilla?"
"Yes, it's mine. I'll tell you all about it tomorrow, but now I just want to talk to you and about you. You want to smoke, don't you? Light your pipe and be comfortable. It'll make you think better."
John laughed.
"I do want to smoke."