The fragrant fumes of the good cigar did not drive Drusilla away. She sat near him with a little piece of crochet work in her fingers.
“I want you to promise me one thing, Drusa,” said Alick, taking the weed from his lips.
“I will promise you anything in the world,” she answered.
“I dare say! But would you perform it?”
“Yes, indeed, Alick.”
“If you could.”
“Oh, of course that is understood! Providence permitting, I will do whatever you wish.”
“Well, the promises I wish you to make me will not be very hard to keep. In the first place, I want you to give me your word that you will not go into Washington unless in case of necessity.”
“You have my word for that, Alick.”
“And when obliged to go, that you will show yourself as little as possible; that you will never recognize or speak with any acquaintance, old or new, whom you may happen to meet.”