“You are right,” said Emma; “were you not present last night when we discussed our plans for to-day?”
“No, he was in the verandah,” interposed Nita, with an arch smile, “indulging that savage and unintellectual taste you call smoking.”
“Ah, Mademoiselle, be not too severe. It may not, indeed, be styled an intellectual pursuit, but neither, surely, can it be called savage, seeing that it softens and ameliorates the rugged spirit of man.”
“It is savage,” returned Nita, “because you do not encourage ladies to join you in it.”
“Pardon me, Mademoiselle,” cried Lewis, pulling out his cigar-case, “nothing would gratify me more than your acceptance of—”
“Insult me not, Monsieur,” said Nita, with a toss of her pretty little head, “but reply to your cousin’s question.”
“Ah, to be sure, well—let me see, what was it? Was I present when the plans for the day were arranged? Yes I was, but I missed the first part of the conversation, having been, as Mademoiselle Horetzki truly observes, occupied with that—a—”
“Savage habit,” interposed Nita.
“Savage habit,” said Lewis, “the savage element of which I am willing to do away with at a moment’s notice when desired. I merely heard that the professor had fixed to go on the glacier for the purpose of measuring it, as though it were a badly clad giant, and he a scientific tailor who had undertaken to make a top-coat for it. I also heard that you two had decided on a walk before breakfast, and, not caring to do tailoring on the ice, I begged leave to join you—therefore I am here.”
“Ah, you prefer woman’s society and safety to manly exercise and danger!” said Nita.