"Oh, I say, I'm going to make you a highball," I said, trying to assume a frisky, jocular air.
Her voice lifted in alarm. "Nay, nay, Clarence--not for me!" she urged hastily.
"No fizzy adulterations in mine--not on your life." She followed me across the room. "Just give me the straight, pure goods--anything, just so it's whisky."
And before I could say a word--if, indeed, I could have said a word--she had selected a decanter of Scotch, and with cigar tilted upward in her tender mouth, was absorbingly pouring a shining stream of the amber fluid.
To see the slow curving of that delicately molded wrist, the challenging flash of the saucy eyes of blue, by Jove, it made me just forget all about what she was doing till the fluid ran over the brim. And then, before I could intercept her, she had lightly gestured her glass to mine, and in a flash the stuff was gone.
Gone! A full whisky glass; and I recalled with a shiver of horror that it was very high proof liquor--something I seldom touched myself, but kept on hand for certain of my friends.
"I say, you know!" I gasped in consternation.
"I'm awfully afraid that will--er--will--" I gulped wordlessly.
"Get _me_ jingled?" She looked as she might have if I had insulted her. "Maybe so in those girlie-girlie days you were trying to josh me about, but not since these two years I've been at college." She shook her lovely, bright head, and following a long enjoyable pull at the cigar, projected five perfect rings at a frescoed cherub in the ceiling. The exquisite eyes softened dreamily as under the spell of some pleasing thought--some tender reminiscence.
"Why, do you know," she said, looking at me earnestly, "when I was home for the holidays--" Then she paused. "Don't tell Brother Jack I told you this--will you, Mr. Lightnut? He's so sensitive about it."
"Well, when I was home, then, I put Brother Jack under the table two nights running; and you know that's going some!"
And smiling proudly, she poured out another! But not any more, for I put away the decanter.
My brain was reeling, as they say in books; dash it, I was almost sick. Poor, poor little girl! And nobody to remonstrate with her. What a shame--what a shame!
By Jove, I wondered if she would listen to me! I fixed my glass resolutely as we resumed our seats, and bent toward her earnestly.