"When I am engaged in conversation with you, I feel a general sense of agreeable stimulation; and, in addition to that, at this particular moment But are you sure you really wish to know?" he broke off.
"Yes, tell me," she said, with curiosity.
"Well, then, a furious desire to smoke a cigarette."
She laughed merrily. "I am so sorry I have no cigarettes to offer you."
"My pockets happen to be stuffed with them."
"Then, do, please, light one."
He produced his cigarette-case, but he seemed to hesitate about lighting a cigarette.
"Have you no matches?" she inquired.
"Yes, thank you, I have matches. I was only thinking."
"It has become a solitude, then?" she cried.
"It is a case of conscience, it is an ethical dilemma. How do I know — the modern woman is capable of anything — how do I know that you may not yourself be a smoker? But if you are, it will give you pain to see me enjoying my cigarette, while you are without one."
"It would be civil to begin by offering me one," she suggested.
"That is exactly the liberty I dared not take — oh, there are limits to my boldness. But you have saved the situation." And he offered her his cigarette-case.
She shook her head. "Thank you, I don’t smoke." And her eyes were full of teasing laughter, so that he laughed too, as he finally applied a match-flame to his cigarette. "But you may allow me to examine your cigarette-case," she went on. "It looks like a pretty bit of silver." And when he had handed it to her, she exclaimed, "It is engraved with the royal arms."
" Yes. Why not?" said he.
