“Think not?” said Lacey, dubiously.
“I’m sure of it, sir.”
“Well, I’m glad you think so, Smithson. The colonel was here just now smoking one of those strong cigars of his. Do I smell of it?”
“I can smell scent, sir—nothing else.”
“That’s right. Well, he said something like you did; but I always get so nervous, and feel as if he was chaffing me. You see, I want to look well to-night. You know why, Smithson.”
“Yes, sir; I can guess.”
“Of course. She’s coming.”
“I guessed that, too, sir.”
“I don’t care much how I look, for dressing yourself up takes a lot of trouble, let alone the expense. I say, you do mean it, Smithson?”
“You may always believe me, sir,” said Dick, quietly.