“In the way?”
“Yes; weren’t you doing something when I came in? Packing a trunk or something?”
“Oh, it—it doesn’t matter; there’s no hurry.”
“Going home over Sunday?”
“Y—yes.”
“You’re lucky; wish I was. But don’t let me interrupt; go ahead and I’ll just sit here out of the way, if you don’t mind my staying.”
“Not at all; I—I’m glad to have you.” And the odd thing about it, as Jack realized the next moment, was that he meant what he said. The visitor drew a little brier pipe from one pocket and a pouch from another.
“Smoke?” he asked.
“No,” answered Jack.