Waiter, take this gentleman's order.

You young fellows cannot smoke without drinking, nowadays--horrid bad habit.
Waiter, bring me the same." When we were alone, John Turner sat smoking and looking at me with beady, reflective eyes.
"You know, Dick," he said at length, "I have got you down in my will." "Thanks--but you will last my time." "Then it is no good, you think ?" he inquired, with a chuckle.
"Not much." "You want it now ?" he suggested.
"No." "Your father's son," commented my father's friend.

"Stubborn and rude.
A true Howard of Hopton.

I have got you down in my will, however, and I'm going to interfere in your affairs.

That is why I sent for you." I smoked and waited.
"I take it," he went on in his short and breathless way, "that things are at a standstill somewhat in this position.