"Nor a dentist."
"You'd better knock on wood!" she told him.
"And cry 'Uncle Reuben?' he asked smilingly.
"You haven't told me why you don't smoke!" said she suddenly.
"Haven't I?" he said. "That was very rude of me. But look here. There's a thing I wanted to ask you. Now I'm not pressing any sort of inquiry as to myself; but as a brother, would you mind telling me some of those numerous reasons why you will not marry anybody?"
She eyed him suspiciously, but he was as solid and calm as usual, regarding her pleasantly and with no hint of ulterior purpose. "Why—I don't mind," she began slowly. "First—I have been married—and was very unhappy. That's reason enough."
He did not contradict her; but merely said, "That's one," and set it down in his notebook.
"Dear me, Mr. Olmstead! You're not a reporter, are you!"
"O no—but I wanted to have them clear and think about them," he explained. "Do you mind?" And he made as if to shut his little book again.
"I don't know as I mind," she said slowly. "But it looks so—businesslike."