Mr. Zinsheimer frowned.
"I did not ask permission," he replied.
Two of the stout ladies gathered up their magazines, glowered at the placid Zinsheimer and the nonplussed boy, murmured "Wretch," and departed.
"But I mean, there's no smoking here," continued the boy.
"Marky" Zinsheimer blew a particularly large whiff of smoke in the direction of the checker-table.
"You're wrong, kid," he remarked. "There is smoking here, and I'm doing it."
"But it's against the hotel rules."
"Hotel rules are like a woman's mind," said "Marky" carelessly, moving toward the checker-table. "They can be changed to fit any situation."
The checker-players were so much absorbed in their game that they did not notice him at first, so he leaned over the table, genially, and inquired:
"Well, whose move is it now?"