Geoffrey had hard work to sit unmoved, for he thought of what he knew, and wondered whether he ought to speak out: and he felt that the old man was watching him searchingly.
“No!” said Geoffrey, shortly. “It is not!”
“That’s right, I’m glad of it,” said the old man, taking a chair, and apparently more at his ease. “She’ll be a cat one of these days, hang her! But look here, boy. Don’t you look at her. The jade’s ready to lead on everybody she sees. If I were not her uncle, I believe she’d set her cap at me. Now, look here: I told you at first, and I tell you again, I’ll have no fooling.”
“Give me one of those cigars of yours,” said Geoffrey, rather bluntly, and apparently without paying any heed to the old man’s words. “I want a smoke.”
“Humph! Things are going crooked with you, then, are they?”
“Very!” said Geoffrey. “But come out to the summer-house, and let’s feel the free air.”
“Here, catch hold!” cried the old man, holding out a black cheroot. “That’s the only good trait in your character, boy, you do know a good cigar. He, he, he! You should try some I keep for Rumsey, and fellows like that.”
“Thanks, no,” said Geoffrey.
“Ah! I told you how it would be,” continued the old man, as they entered the look-out and took their seats. “I told you how it would be. I knew it well enough. So I did.”
They sat looking at each other for a few moments.