"Why do I call her Nirvana? Because she looks like a gipsy. She does, doesn't she?"
Mr Carver's fruity voice had also become discreet.
"I don't know. I think she looks charming."
"Do you?" said Mr Carver. "I'd like to talk to you about that. Not now—presently." He knew the value of a slight hint of mystery. "Have a cigarette now, Mrs Bablove?"
"Thanks. I think I will."
"Why wouldn't you smoke before?" he asked as he lit the cigarette for her.
"Too many people. The room's nearly empty now. I'm not so brave as—Nirvana."
"I don't think you quite know what you are. You're full of possibilities."
"I like these cigarettes," said Dora. "Teddy gives me one sometimes, though I don't often smoke, but his are not quite so nice as these."
Mr Carver became informative on the subject of Turkish tobacco, but with the information he wove much which was personal. It appeared that it was Mr Carver's ambition to leave business and London and to spend the rest of his life in Japan.