“It is––for everything except aneurisms. Smoking’s the death of aneurisms. Have another cigar, Joe. And Miss Luce, shall we exchange a health?”
“But I never drank anything in all my life.”
“Of course not. But you will now, won’t you? Consider the occasion and I’m sure you won’t let me drink alone. And I’ve come so far to see you, too––only of course not––Well, here’s to your good health, and may you live long and–––”
The rest of it was smothered in the gurgle. And nobody would ever think to see the way she put down hers that Miss Luce had never had a drink of wine before.
“And now, Miss Luce, may I ask how long it has been since your friend Dave Warner left–––”
“Oh-h––Dave Warner? He’s no friend of mine.”
“Isn’t he? Well, he’s no particular friend of mine, either. But a friend of mine––of both of us, Joe here, too––is with Dave––Maurice Blake. Any word of him?”
“Oh, yes. A good-looking fellow, nice eyes and hair and nice manners. I do like to see refined manners in people. Now if it was him–––”
“If it was him, you wouldn’t have told him to go to sea and the devil take him–––”