Ruth put her arm in Kirk’s and led him off to the smoking-room.
“You may smoke a cigar while I tell you all about Bill,” she said.
Kirk lit a cigar, bewildered. It is always unpleasant to be the person to whom things have to be explained.
“Poor old boy,” Ruth went on, “you certainly are thin. But about Bill. I am afraid you are going to be a little upset about Bill, Kirk. Aunt Lora has no tact, and she will make a speech on every possible occasion; but she was right just now. It really was rather dangerous, picking Bill up like that and kissing him.”
Kirk stared.
“I don’t understand. Did you expect me to wave my hand to him? Or would it have been more correct to bow?”
“Don’t be so satirical, Kirk; you wither me. No, seriously, you really mustn’t kiss Bill. I never do. Nobody does.”
“What!”
“I dare say it sounds ridiculous to you, but you were not here when he was so ill and nearly died. You remember what I was telling you at the dock? About giving Whiskers away? Well, this is all part of it. After what happened I feel, like Aunt Lora, that we simply can’t take too many precautions. You saw his nursery. Well, it would be simply a waste of money giving him a nursery like that if he was allowed to be exposed to infection when he was out of it.”
“And I am supposed to be infectious?”