And this I must say, here and now. I do not like kissing. Even then,
in that first embrase of to, I was worried because I could smell the
varnish burning on the Piano. I therfore permited but one salute on the
cheek and no more before removing the cigar, which had burned a large
spot.
"Look here," he said, in a stern manner, "are we engaged or aren't we?
Because I'd like to know."
"If you are to demonstrative, no!" I replied, firmly.
"If you call that a kiss, I don't."
"It sounded like one," I said. "I suppose you know more than I do what
is a kiss and what is not. But I'll tell you this--there is no use
keeping our amatory affairs to ourselves and then kissing so the Butler
thinks the fire whistle is blowing."
We then sat down, and I gave him the key ring, which he said was a
dandy. I then told him about getting Sis married and out of the way. He
thought it was a good idea.
"You'll never have a chance as long as she's around," he observed,
smoking father's cigar at intervals. "They're afraid of you, and that's
flat. It's your Eyes. That's what got me, anyhow." He blue a smoke ring
and sat back with his legs crossed. "Funny, isn't it?" he said. "Here
we are, snug as weavils in a cotton thing-un-a-gig, and only a week ago
there was nothing between us but to brick walls. Hot in here, don't you
think?"
"Only a week!" I said. "Tom, I've somthing to tell you. That is the nice
part of being engaged--to tell things that one would otherwise bury in
one's own Bosom.
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