“Then your credit must be better in New York than in Colebrook,” thought Grant, but he fore-bore to say so.
Grant was rather glad the little package of pearls was in the pocket furthest away from Tom, for his opinion of his companion's honesty was not the highest.
When half an hour had passed, Tom vacated his seat.
“I'm going into the smoking car,” he said, “to have a smoke. Won't you come with me?”
“No, thank you. I don't smoke.”
“Then it's time you began. I've got a cigarette for you, if you'll try it.”
“Much obliged, but I am better off without it.”
“You'll soon get over that little-boy feeling. Why, boys in the city of half your age smoke.”
“I am sorry to hear it.”
“Well, ta-ta! I'll be back soon.”