"C'est une diablesse—a little devil. There are others, and worse ones, John. Good-night."
On the stairs the young fellow felt a deepening sense of humiliation and surprise as he became aware of the value of the banister-rail.
Rivers went into the library blaming his want of care, and a little sorry for the lad's evident distress. "What, not smoking, Grace?"
"No, I have given it up."
"But, why?"
"Well, I can't smoke cheap strong tobacco, and I can't afford better stuff."
"Then, be at ease, my friend. The Squire has sent me a large supply. I am to divide with you," which was as near to a fib as the young clergyman ever got in his blameless life.
"I shall thank him," returned Grace simply, "and return to my pipe, but I do sometimes think it is too weak an indulgence of a slavish habit."
"Hardly worth while to thank Penhallow; he will have forgotten all about it."
"But I shall not."