“The street at this hour is like a ballroom, isn’t it?” Owen said. “I want to get some cigars.” And they turned into a celebrated store, where half a dozen assistants were busily engaged in tying up parcels of five hundred or a thousand cigars, or displaying neatly-made paper boxes containing a hundred cigarettes.
“When will men give up smoking pipes, I should like to know?”
“I thought you were a pipe smoker?”
“So I was, but I can t bear the smell any longer.”
“Yet you smoke cigars?”
“Cigars are different.”
“How was it the change came?”
“I don’t know.” Owen ordered a thousand cigars to be sent to Berkeley
Square.
It was late for tea, and still too early for dinner.
“I am sorry to ask you to dine at such an early hour, but I daresay we shan’t have dinner till half-past seven.”
Bu
