She put these
articles on a small diamond-shaped table and placed the table between
Quincy and herself. She handed Quincy the match-box, then deftly rolling
a cigarette, she lighted it, leaned back upon the lounge and blew rings
of smoke into the air, which she watched until they broke.
"Do you think it's horribly unbecoming for me to smoke?" she asked,
looking at Quincy.
"Do you wish me to express my real thoughts?" replied Quincy, "or
flatter you because you have money?"
Aunt Ella reddened a little, then said, "A good shot, Quincy, but I
deserve it. Go on."
"Well, Aunt Ella," said he, "you are the only woman whom I ever saw
smoke who, in my opinion, knew how to do it gracefully."
"I think you are sincere," she rejoined, "and I beg pardon for wounding
your feelings as I did before. Give me your hand on it."
They shook hands as two men would have done after settling differences.
Then she said, "Now draw your chair up closer, Quincy, and tell me what
you've been doing, and what other people have been doing to you since
the day before Christmas, the last time I set eyes on you until to-day.
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