“Then why did you ask?”
“For confirmation. Is yours a bad cigar?”
“No. Why?”
“Because it don’t seem to act as a sedative. A good one always makes me calm and agreeable.”
“Then you think I am disagreeable?” said the old man, sharply.
“Not to put too fine a point upon it—yes; very.”
“I always am,” said the old gentleman, with a harsh laugh. “What do you think of my niece?”
“Very pretty,” said Geoffrey, quietly.
“Oh! You think so?”
“Yes. Don’t you?”