Mr. Vetsburg lighted a loosely wrapped cigar and slumped in his chair.
"If anybody," he observed, "should ask right this minute where I'm at, tell 'em for me, Mrs. Kaufman, I'm in the most comfortable chair in the house."
"You should keep it, then, up in your room, Mr. Vetsburg, and not always bring it down again when I get Annie to carry it up to you."
"Say, I don't give up so easy my excuse for dropping in evenings."
"Honest, you—you two children, you ought to have a fence built around you the way you like always to be together."
He sat regarding her, puffing and chewing his live cigar. Suddenly he leaped forward, his hand closing rigidly over hers.
"Mrs. Kaufman!"
"What?"
"Quick, there's a hole in your chin."
"Gott! a—a—what?"