She had nothing to say to this, apparently. After a little,
she seated herself again, drawing her chair closer
to the hearth. "It's years since I've lit this
fire before the first of November," she remarked,
with the air of defending the action to herself.

"Oh, we're celebrating," he said, rubbing his hands
over the reluctant blaze. "Everything goes, tonight!"

Her face, as she looked up at him, betrayed the bewilderment
of her mind. "You set out to tell me what it was all about,"
she reminded him. "You see I'm completely in the dark.
I only hear you say that you've made a great fortune.
That's all I know. Or perhaps you've told me as much as you
care to."

"Why, not at all," he reassured her, pulling his own
chair toward him with his foot, and sprawling into it
with a grunt of relief. "If you'll draw me a glass
of that beer of yours, I'll tell you all about it.
It's not a thing for everybody to know, not to be breathed
to a human being, for that matter--but you'll enjoy it,
and it'll be safe enough with you."

As she rose, and moved toward a door, he called merrily
after her: "No more beer when that keg runs dry, you know.
Nothing but champagne!"