this innocent intrusion." I looked at my watch. "I believe that you
gave me an hour's respite. So, then, I have thirty minutes to my
account."

The women gazed at each other. One laughed, and the other smiled; it
was the English girl who laughed this time. I liked the sound of it
better than any I had yet heard.

(Pardon another parenthesis. I hope you haven't begun to think that
_I_ am the hero of this comedy. Let it be furthest from your thoughts.
I am only a passive bystander.)

"I sincerely trust that your hunger is appeased," said the one who had
smiled.

"It is, thank you." I absently fumbled in my coat pockets, then
guiltily dropped my hands. What a terrible thing habit is!

"You may smoke," said the Bouguereau child who was grown into
womanhood. Wasn't that fine of her? And wasn't it rather observant,
too? I learned later that she had a brother who was fond of tobacco.
To her eyes my movement was a familiar one.

"With your kind permission," said I gratefully. I hadn't had a smoke
in four hours.

I owned a single good cigar, the last of my importation. I lighted it
and blew forth a snowy billow of heavenly aroma. I know something
about human nature, even the feminine side of it. A presentable young
man with a roll of aromatic tobacco seldom falls to win the confidence