“Anything else, sir?”
“No. Wait down in the car.” He turned to Brett and to me. “We’ll want to ride out to the Bois for dinner?”
“If you like,” Brett said. “I couldn’t eat a thing.”
“I always like a good meal,” said the count.
“Should I bring the wine in, sir?” asked the chauffeur.
“Yes. Bring it in, Henry,” said the count. He took out a heavy pigskin cigar-case and offered it to me. “Like to try a real American cigar?”
“Thanks,” I said. “I’ll finish the cigarette.”
He cut off the end of his cigar with a gold cutter he wore on one end of his watch-chain.
“I like a cigar to really draw,” said the count “Half the cigars you smoke don’t draw.”
He lit the cigar, puffed at it, looking across the table at Brett. “And when you’re divorced, Lady Ashley, then you won’t have a title.”