"I'm afraid I can't offer you any tobacco," she said.
"I've got plenty," he laughed, "if you don't mind my smoking."
"Not a bit. Perhaps I should call Carrie. I think she likes the smell of tobacco better than any perfume she knows."
"Is she well?" asked Wade, contritely. "I should have asked before, but—you—something put it out of my head."
"Quite well, thanks. She's making something for luncheon and has forbidden me the kitchen. It's a surprise. Do you like surprises, Mr. Herrick?"
"Some. It depends on the nature of them."
"I suppose it does. An earthquake, for instance, would be a rather disagreeable surprise, wouldn't it?"
"Decidedly. I can imagine a surprise that would be distinctly pleasant, though," said Wade, giving a great deal of attention to the selection of a match from his silver case. "For instance, if you were to give me a small piece of that lilac for my buttonhole."
"That would surprise you?" laughed Eve. "Then I'm to understand that you think me ungenerous?"
"No, indeed, I was—was considering my unworthiness."