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Updated: June 2, 2025


I said a poor excuse was better than none and offered to wager the price of a new hat that he couldn't sell one in a week. He then offered to bet the cigars for the crowd that he could sell one to his washerwoman. "Yes," I replied, "I suppose she would be glad to take cats and dogs for what you owe her." That settled it, and he raked me right and left.

Our host insisted upon our taking another of his very excellent cigars before we left, it was close upon one o'clock when we rose to go. He rang up a taxi for us, helped us on with our coats, accompanied us to the door, and shook hands with each of us most cordially. "What do you make of it, Michael?"

The hotel-entrances were crowded with loungers, in snow-white clothing, large Leghorn or palmetto hats, and fancy-coloured shirts, who smoked cigars incessantly, and generally discussed with energy the inroads of the Indians, or other leading topics of the day.

All the stock-in-trade followed suit down to the chocolate cigars and pipes in pink caramel. Whenever he was stuffed with sweetmeats and seized with a fit of tenderness, he paid himself with a last lick on the groceress in a corner, who found him all sugar with lips which tasted like burnt almonds. Such a delightful man to kiss! He was positively becoming all honey.

Then, as it grew dark, we sat on the little veranda while we smoked our cigars that is, Gregory Wilkinson and I smoked: all that Susan did was to try to poke her finger through the rings which I blew towards her and I told why we had come down there, and what a good start we had made towards finding my great-great-great-uncle's buried money.

Get the cigars, Murray!" he commanded the steward; and to Larpent as the man went to obey, "That's decent of you. Thought you were going to refuse. I was damned offensive a while back. Accept my apologies! Fact is I'm fed up with this show. Sorry if I disappoint you, but I'm going home." "You never disappoint me, my lord," said Larpent, with his enigmatical smile.

The custom-house officer, searching the next luggage to mine, unearthed two boxes of cigars; of course these were contraband. He spoke as follows: "Which are the best?" Opens box. "Have you a light? I forgot; we must not smoke here. Well, I will take a few to smoke after my supper." Takes twenty cigars, and passes the rest. December 14, 1866.

Dove would have dearly liked to acquaint himself with their contents, but he was a slow and deficient reader. Some cigars lay in a little cigar-case at one end. Dove, as a matter of course, and without weighing the question at all, slipped a couple into his pocket.

All three lighted cigars and went to the drawing-room where Maryan sat again on the Louis XI box, Kranitski sank into a cathedra, and the baron opened at the window one sheet of an English paper, which shielded him before the light from his knees to the crown of his head. He was silent rather long, then from behind the paper curtain was heard his nasal voice: "Crushing!"

"Well, I'm very, very glad to see you," said Levin, with a genuine smile of childlike delight. Levin led his friend to the room set apart for visitors, where Stepan Arkadyevitch's things were carried also a bag, a gun in a case, a satchel for cigars. Leaving him there to wash and change his clothes, Levin went off to the counting house to speak about the ploughing and clover.

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