"The man in the shop told me," Margaret said, "that was the best tobacco that comes from the Americas."
"I should think it is," said I; "I've never smoked better."
"It gives you a lot of trouble," she answered, and stayed her stitching for a moment to look at me.
"Did you get some right Strasburg for the Colonel?" I asked.
"No. Is he running short?"
"Yes," said I.
"And no marvel, either. He puts his snuff-box under his pillow, and when I take him his chocolate of a morning, he takes a long, affectionate pinch, and then says, 'Good morrow, sweetheart!'"
I laughed, and then fell silent and wondered. While I had been loafing about the town, she had been attending to my small whims and needs.
And now, after a smart rap at the door, in flounced a sprightly, elegant lady, very gay and very certain of herself.
"What a charming, domestic picture!" she broke out. "I fear I intrude, Margaret dear, but I'm going to stay. The girl is bringing up the tea, and I'm positively dying for a cup and a sit-down. Of course this"--turning gaily round on me, standing there like a great gawk, volubly cursing my shirt-sleeves under my breath--"is the incomparable Oliver! Charmed to meet you, sir!"