“All right. Ask the Major to come up,” interrupted Winthrop, tossing aside his book and exchanging dressing-gown for coat and waistcoat. A moment later the Major’s halting tread sounded outside the open door and Winthrop went forward to meet him.
“I’m honored to make your acquaintance, Mr. Winthrop,” said the Major, as they shook hands.
“Glad to know you, Major,” replied Winthrop. “Come in, please; try the arm-chair.”
The Major bowed his thanks, laid his cane across the table and accepted the chair which Winthrop pushed forward. Winthrop drew a second chair to the other side of the fire-place.
“A fire, Mr. Winthrop,” observed the Major, “is very acceptable these cool evenings.”
“Well, I haven’t felt the need of it myself,” replied Winthrop, “but it was here and it seemed a shame to waste it. I’ll close the windows if you like.”
“Not at all, not at all; I like fresh air. I couldn’t have too much of it, sir, if it wasn’t for this confounded rheumatism of mine. With your permission, sir.” The Major leaned forward and laid a fresh log on the fire. Winthrop arose and quietly closed the windows.
“Do you smoke, Major? I have some cigars here somewhere.”
“Thank you, sir, if they’re right handy.” He accepted one, held it to his nose and inhaled the aroma, smiled approvingly and tucked it into a corner of his mouth. “You’ll pardon me if I don’t light it,” he said.
“Certainly,” replied Winthrop.