‘By no means. That’s not my line. The kind of thing in which one makes a column out of what would fill six lines of respectable prose. You call a cigar a “convoluted weed,” and so on, you know; that passes for facetiousness. I’ve never really tried my hand at that style yet; I shouldn’t wonder if I managed it brilliantly. Some day I’ll write a few exercises; just take two lines of some good prose writer, and expand them into twenty, in half-a-dozen different ways. Excellent mental gymnastics!’
Marian listened to his flow of talk for a few minutes longer, then took the opportunity of a brief silence to rise and put on her hat. Jasper observed her, but without rising; he looked at his sisters in a hesitating way. At length he stood up, and declared that he too must be off. This coincidence had happened once before when he met Marian here in the evening.
‘At all events, you won’t do any more work to-night,’ said Dora.
‘No; I shall read a page of something or other over a glass of whisky, and seek the sleep of a man who has done his duty.’
‘Why the whisky?’ asked Maud.
‘Do you grudge me such poor solace?’
‘I don’t see the need of it.’
‘Nonsense, Maud!’ exclaimed her sister. ‘He needs a little stimulant when he works so hard.’
Each of the girls gave Marian’s hand a significant pressure as she took leave of them, and begged her to come again as soon as she had a free evening. There was gratitude in her eyes.
The evening was clear, and not very cold.