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"A good cigar, if I am any judge," he said, "cut with a penknife, and smoked through a holder." They reached the gate and passed through. Here they were on the road again and this they followed until they reached another cross road that to the left inclining southward to the new Eastbourne Road and that to the westward looking back to the Lewes-Eastbourne railway.
"Um what does she want for them?" "I don't think poor Mary has any idea about the price; she asked me, but there's one thing I won't do, and that's to be mixed up in an art deal " Ringsmith's eyes flashed; he flicked the ash off his cigar angrily. "Mixed up art deal! Then why the devil do you come to me?" Peter Knott smiled at him benignly. "Oh! Because you and I are old friends, Stephen.
He said this emphatically; he would teach her he was not to be thwarted; that when he desired anything, Heaven and earth, figuratively speaking, would have to move. He frowned darkly at her as Jinnie cut in swiftly: "You killed my father. He told me you did." Morse flicked an ash from a cigar he had lighted, and his eyes grew hard, like rocks in a cold, gray dawn.
We were a long way yet, however, from our destination. The night grew darker and colder, and after the necessary unmuffling occasioned by the cigar process, we drew our wraps closer about us, leaned back in our corners, and smoked away in silence; the red glow of our cigars serving to light the carriage nearly as well as the red nose of the neglected and half-extinguished lamp.
Put on your shawl, Tiny! It's a fine Turkish shawl, my dear painter cost fifty ducats. Wrap yourself up in it, Tiny; we must be getting home. Good-bye, my dear sir." Edmund was here inspired by a happy thought. He took out his cigar case and offered the Commissionsrath a third Havannah. "I really am excessively obliged to you," the Commissionsrath said, delighted; "you really are most kind.
"That is what I should like," said Lady Mary, in her deep, beautiful voice. "And Wemyss would, too." Sir Wemyss, who spoke but seldom, here removed his cigar, for we had gone into the billiard-room after dinner, and said: "Jardine, you don't know how a little place like this appeals to me.
It was his ambition to meet the man who wrote them. Lord Emsworth sat and smoked, and sipped and smoked again, at peace with all the world. His mind was as nearly a blank as it is possible for the human mind to be. The hand that had not the task of holding the cigar was at rest in his trousers pocket. The fingers of it fumbled idly with a small, hard object.
The father started and knocked an ash delicately from the end of his cigar. "H'm! Well, that's not a bad idea! Rather odd, perhaps, but still there's always dignity and distinction in it. Your great grandfather on your mother's side was a clergyman in the Church of England. Of course it's rather a surprise, but it's always respectable, and with your money you would be independent.
"It is, and let me tell you that you're a living example of a contradiction in terms. You use your brains, Mr. Handyside, yet you smoke a cigar calculated to atrophy the keenest intellect. You, an American, chewing a vile Burmese Cheroot! Cre' nom d'un pipe! When this bubble has burst I must reason with you!"
"Let us compare notes, Miss Blanche, and see to whom the rock belongs by right of discovery. Won't you be seated?" I said, making a place for her. "I came to see the sunset," she replied after a moment's hesitation, "and if it won't incommode you I will stay. Should you not care to talk, please read on: I shall not mind. And won't you light another cigar?
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