Up to her brother.
MRS. TILLMAN. Her father's been locked up in his study for three
hours--he _says_ thinking, but to _me_ his eyes look very suspicious!
[_Taking her husband's arm affectionately._
TILLMAN. [_Clears his throat._] Nonsense!
MRS. TILLMAN. Well, _how many cigars did you smoke_?
TILLMAN. Eight.
MRS. TILLMAN. The amount of emotion that a man can soak out of himself
with tobacco is wonderful! He uses it just like a sponge!
TILLMAN. Jack, the first thing I asked about you when I heard
that--er--that things were getting this way was, does he smoke? A man
who smokes has always that outlet. If things go wrong--go out and smoke
a cigar, and when the cigar's _finished_, ten to one everything's got
right, somehow! If you lose your temper, don't speak!--a cigar, and when
it's finished, then speak! You'll find the temper all gone up in the
smoke! A woman's happiness is safest with a man who smokes. [_He clears
his throat, which is filling._] God bless you, Jack, it _is_ a wrench;
our only girl, you know. She's been a great joy--ahem!
[_He quickly gets out a cigar.
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