“Oh, I can't get any fun out of a cigar unless I can see the smoke,” the host explained.
“Do you follow him, Mrs. Pasmer?”
“Yes, perfectly.”
“Thank you, Mrs. Pasmer,” said Trevor.
“I'll get you to tell me how you did it some time,” said Mrs. Brinkley. “But your house is a gem, Mr. Trevor.”
“Isn't it?” cried Trevor. “I want my wife to live here the year round.” It was the Trevors' first summer in their cottage, and the experienced reader will easily recognise his mood. “But she's such a worldly spirit, she won't.”
“Oh, I don't know about the year round. Do you, Mrs. Pasmer?”
“I should,” said Alice, with the suddenness of youth, breaking into the talk which she had not been supposed to take any interest in.
“Is it proper to kiss a young lady's hand?” said Trevor gratefully, appealing to Mrs. Brinkley.
“It isn't very customary in the nineteenth century,” said Mrs. Brinkley. “But you might kiss her fan. He might kiss her fan, mightn't he, Mrs. Pasmer?”