Really, you see, I haven't known you
till now.'
And so the two worthy gentlemen disappeared into the smoking-room and
rang the electric bell.
But it was in his own state-room that George Wentworth's jocularity came
out at its best. He would grasp John Kenyon by the shoulder and shake
that solemn man, over whose face a grim smile generally appeared when he
noticed the exuberant jollity of his comrade.
'John,' Wentworth cried, 'why don't you laugh?'
'Well, it seems to me,' replied his comrade, 'that you are doing laughing
enough for us both. It is necessary to have one member of the firm solid
and substantial. I'm trying to keep the average about right. When you
were in the dumps I had to be cheerful for two. Now that you feel so
lively, I take a refuge in melancholy, to rest me after my hard efforts
at cheerfulness.'
'Well, John, it seems to me too good to be true. What a plucky girl she
was to do such a thing! How did she know but that the little vixen had a
revolver with her, and might have shot her?'
'I suppose she didn't think about it at all.'
'Have you seen her since that dramatic incident?'
'Seen whom? Miss Brewster?'
'No, no; I mean Miss Longworth.'
'No, she hasn't appeared yet. I suppose she fears there will be a scene,
and she is anxious to avoid it.'
'Very likely that is the case,' said Wentworth. 'Well, if you do see her,
you can tell her there is no danger. Our genial friend, Fleming, has had
a talk with that newspaper woman, so he tells me, and the way he
describes it is exceedingly picturesque.
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