Malcolm Warne shook hands with a smile which displayed a set of very white teeth. It was a nice smile and lighted up the somewhat serious face very pleasantly.
“Happy to meet you,” said Warne. Then, to Rob, “So he was just saying. I hope you will—like it—both of you.” He had a very soft voice, spoke slowly, and had a way of chopping off the ends of his words that was unfamiliar to Evan.
“Oh, we’ll get on all right, I think,” said Rob, easily. “Sit down, Mal, and tell us what you did all summer. By the way, though, Kingsford, it’s all right about the room. Doctor agreed with me that a chap with any tendency toward colds, grippe, pneumonia, and consumption ought not to live in 36. He got rather interested in your case, and I shouldn’t be surprised if he sent the doctor around to-morrow to report on you. If he comes, please cough for my sake! Well, I’ve got to get my trunk unpacked. Go ahead and talk, Mal.”
“No, I reckon I’ll go on. I just dropped in to say howdy to you.”
“What? ‘Go on’ nothing! Sit down, you idiot, and tell me what’s been happening with you.”
“Oh, nothing much. I had a very quiet summer. I was at home most of the time, although we went down to Virginia Beach in August for a couple of weeks. I’ll see you to-morrow, Rob. Good night, Mr. Kingsford. Pleased to have met you. Get Rob to bring you over to see me soon. So long, Rob.”
“Well, if you insist on going,” said Rob, following the caller to the door. “What’s the matter, Mal? Anything wrong?” They passed out, Rob drawing the door shut behind him. Evan heard their low voices outside in the hallway for several minutes. Then Rob reappeared, looking worried.
“Now there’s a crazy idiot,” he said, with a frown, thrusting his hands into his trousers pockets and spreading his long legs apart.
“Why?” asked Evan.