"A little quiet whiff," he suggested. "There's not much chance over at the convent," and she gathered that it was thus he was pleased to designate Silverdale.
In one instant she was doubtful whether or not to be angry, and in the next grew ashamed of the provincialism which had caused her to suspect an insult. She took a cigarette, and he produced a gold match case, lighted a match, and held it up for her. Honora blew it out.
"You didn't think seriously that I smoked?" she asked, glancing at him.
"Why not?" he asked; "any number of girls do."
She tore away some of the rice paper and lifted the tobacco to her nose, and made a little grimace.
"Do you like to see women smoke?" she asked.
Mr. Spence admitted that there was something cosey about the custom, when it was well done.
"And I imagine," he added, "that you'd do it well."
"I'm sure I should make a frightful mess of it," she protested modestly.
"You do everything well," he said.