“I do not smoke.”
“H’m! you are what might be termed a ‘model young man,’” his employer dryly observed.
“I am nothing of the kind, if, by that, you mean to imply that I assume to have no faults,” Gerald retorted, with a little flash in his eyes, for he began to suspect that he was being quizzed; “but I have always claimed that I would never become a slave to any habit.”
“And you are right, Winchester—I wish there were more young men in the world who possessed just that spirit of independence,” said Mr. Lyttleton, in a friendly tone. “Wines and liquors I shun, but I smoke—my cigar I cannot do without; I wish I could. Now,” he added, as he pushed back his chair, “I have an engagement, and must hurry away; but I would like to have you come to my office to-morrow morning at nine, sharp, when I shall want to talk with you further about your duties.”
“Very well, sir. I will be on time,” Gerald returned, and then the two shook hands cordially, and separated.
It was a little after two when they left the restaurant, and Gerald thought he might as well go directly up-town to call upon Allison, and inform her of his flattering prospects.
But he sighed when he remembered that the ocean would soon roll between them, and it would be many months before he could see her again.
A servant admitted him, and conducted him to the drawing-room, and a few moments later, Allison came running down-stairs, with an eager elasticity in her steps that set her lover’s pulses leaping with secret joy.
As she entered the room, she sprang to meet him with outstretched hands and smiling lips, although the brilliant flush upon her cheeks and the shy drooping of her golden-fringed lids betrayed that she was not quite at ease.