"If you ain't a card!"
He had lighted a cigar, and, leaning toward her, blew out a fragrant puff to her.
"M-m-m!" she said; "it's a Cleopatra."
"Nop."
"A El Dorado."
"Guess again."
"A what, then?"
"It's a Habana Queen. Habana because it reminds me of Hanna."
"Aw—you!"
At this crowning puerility Mr. Kaminer paused suddenly, as if he had detected in his laughter a bray.