"
He rolled chairs close to each other and urged them to sit, with the
anxious hospitality of the old man who has grown to prize the narrowing
circle of his intimates.
"Smoke, Thelismer," he pleaded. "Stretch out and smoke. I always like to
see you smoke. You take so much comfort. I sometimes wish I'd learned to
smoke. Old age gets lonely once in a while. Perhaps a good cigar might
be a consolation."
"So you do get lonesome sometimes, Vard?" inquired the Duke.
"It's a lonesome age when you're eighty, comrade. You probably find it
so yourself. There are so few of one's old friends that live to be
eighty."
Then they fell into discourse, eager, wistful reminiscences such as come
to the lips of old friends who meet infrequently. The young man, sitting
close in the circle, listened appreciatively. This courtly old soldier,
lawyer, Governor, and kindly gentleman had been to him since boyhood, as
he had to the understanding youth of his State, an ideal knight of the
old regime. And so the hours slipped past, and he sat listening.
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