“Such an inducement, sir, is superfluous. Your invitation in itself would be quite irresistible. For, aside from the pleasure I derive from your society, and the instruction from your conversation, I will confidentially admit to you that I shall be glad to thaw out my nose.”
I opened the door with my latch-key, and preceded him into my study.
|A beautiful fire was blazing in the grate. The transition from the cold and uproar of the street, to the snug quiet and warmth of this cosy book-lined room, was an agreeable one, I can tell you. I was pretty well rested by this time; and, except for the tingling of my nose, ears, toes, and fingers, felt very little the worse for my encounter with the elements.
“Now,” said I to my guest, “the tables are turned. But a moment since, I was your prisoner; now you are mine. Draw up to the fire. Throw off your over jacket and your rubber-boots. I hope you are not wet through; for, we are built respectively upon such different patterns, it would be ironical for me to offer you dry garments from my wardrobe.”
“You need give yourself no uneasiness upon that score, sir. Im as dry as a Greek lexicon.”
“In that case, let me at once offer you a drop of something wet,” I said, producing a decanter and a couple of glasses.
“Yes,” he assented, “a toothful of this will do neither of us harm.”
“Ah,” he cried, smacking his lips, “sweet ardent spirit of the rye, may the shade of Christopher Columbus be fed upon you thrice every day, to reward him for the discovery of this continent. I've tasted Irish and I've tasted Scotch, Dutch barley-brandy and Slavonic vodka; but of all distillations to make glad the inmost heart of man, give me Kentucky rye! Another glass? Thank you, kind sir, not e'en another drop. 'Twere desecration worthy only of a widower to take a second after so rare a first. And now, by-the-bye, since I find myself the beneficiary of your hospitality, it behoves me to introduce myself. My name is Henry Fairchild, and by trade I am a sculptor.”
“My name is Leonard Benary, physician and surgeon. And I trust, Mr. Fairchild, that you have no urgent affairs to call you from my house, for I should never feel easy in my mind if I permitted you to leave it before this storm has abated; and that doesn't look like an imminent event. My affairs are not urgent. In fact, as I believe I have already remarked, when we ran across each other I was abroad for my diversion, pure and simple. But that is no reason why I should abuse your kindness. If I may thaw here before your fire for a half-hour, I shall be in perfect condition to make my way home.”