and I can't see a thing in the world to stop it. It does look good, and if—if———" He paused.
"If what?" she said, suddenly anxious.
He laughed plaintively, as if confessing a superstition. "It's funny—well, it's mighty funny about that smell. I've got so used to it at the plant I never seem to notice it at all over there. It's only when I get away. Honestly, can't you notice———?"
"Virgil!" She lifted her hand to strike his arm chidingly. "Do quit harping on that nonsense!"
"Oh, of course it don't amount to anything," he said. "A person can stand a good deal of just smell. It don't worry me any."
"I should think not—especially as there isn't any."
"Well," he said, "I feel pretty fair over the whole thing—a lot better'n I ever expected to, anyhow. I don't know as there's any reason I shouldn't tell you so."
She was deeply pleased with this acknowledgment, and her voice had tenderness in it as she responded: "There, honey! Didn't I always say you'd be glad if you did it?"
Embarrassed, he coughed loudly, then filled his pipe and lit it. "Well," he said, slowly, "it's a puzzle. Yes, sir, it's a puzzle."
