As soon as these were finished and Malachi had received his instructions for the next day, he tilted his chair back from the table and disposed himself comfortably for further talk.
But first there was a little dumb-show on Cedric's part; for he drew from his breast-pocket a Russian leather cigarette-case and held it out with a significant smile.

But Malcolm waved it away.
"Avaunt, Satanus," he said with dignity.

"Are you aware, my dear fellow, that you are in a place of business--a venerable institution sacred to the Muses--and that I have to live up to my reputation ?" "Oh, I thought you were boss of the whole concern," returned Cedric in a discomfited tone.

"You are pretty safe from visitors on such an afternoon." "Even if there are no clients, we have a minor prophet always on hand," replied Malcolm.
Then Cedric laughed.
"Mealy Murphy! Oh my prophetic soul, I forgot the youthful Malachi.

I say, Herrick, I was just thinking, as you were writing just now, how odd it seems that I have known you just two years, and you have never been near the Wood House yet." "It has not been for want of invitations," returned his friend with a smile.