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Sogrange, however, continued to talk courteously of trifles until, having decided to watch the first game, they found themselves alone on the leather divan surrounding the room. "This is an unexpected pleasure, my friend," Sogrange said, watching the ash of his cigar. "Professional?" Peter Ruff shook his head. "Not in the least," he answered.
"Then," came the cheery and quick rejoinder of the Kentuckian, relighting his cigar, as he appeared to be always doing under any stress, "we'll begin right away. This is a business proposition and we're all business people. We haven't any time to lose. I want you to go home and begin to pack your kit. The machine is outside. I think your father would like to talk to you."
No sooner had this been done than Lady Burton followed, and stepping into the cab bade the coachman drive off. Up to this moment the chaplain had kept watch, smoking a cigar, at the window of the carriage. The officer seeing a case being placed in the carriage was about to make inquiry just as the coachman whipped up the horse.
If theatre-fires are going to be the fashion this season, the Last of the Rookes will sit quietly at home and play solitaire. Mix yourself a drink of something, old man, or something of that kind. By the way, your jolly old mater. All right? Not even singed? Fine! Make a long arm and gather in a cigar."
"I think a man ought to have a way of his own." "And a woman also, don't you, my dear? But, as I was saying, if Lord Ongar will continue to take care of himself he may become quite a different man. Hugh says that he drinks next to nothing now, and though he sometimes lights a cigar in the smoking room at night, he hardly ever smokes it. You must do what you can to keep him from tobacco.
My travelling-companion stopped for a moment, cleared his throat, drew a silver match-safe from his pocket, relighted his cigar, and continued. "The overseer put Aleck to ploughing the old orchard that lay between the quarters and the house. I sneaked out to watch him as a curious child would, still intent on seeing his wounds.
Mechanically, his hand sought his pocket, where the second charged weed had been placed. Then he started and searched his waistcoat wildly. The deadly cigar was gone!
Belle said there was a quarrel, and Aunt Genevieve said, 'We have nothing to do with the Fairs." As he flicked the ash from his cigar, Allan smiled at Rosalind's unconscious imitation of Genevieve's tone. "I see no reason why you should take up other people's quarrels," he said gravely. Then Rosalind told him of her first meeting with Celia, and the incident of the rose.
Sometimes she stopped at the little magazine stand outside of Carlson's cigar store; her eye caught by a photograph on the cover of a weekly: "Broadway at Forty-Second," or "Night Lights from the Singer Building," or the water-front silhouette that touches like the sight of a beloved face even some hearts that know it not.
They moved rapidly toward the elevator-shaft, passing on their way deserted cigar- and news-stands shrouded in dirty brown clothes. Anisty opened the interview brusquely. "Is Mr. Bannerman in now?" he demanded.
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