The Man.
Then let me lick it up. Not a drop of it ought to be wasted.
His Wife.
How thrifty you are growing!
The Man.
Be ready. Now, then! Quick!—Ah, everything good comes to an end too soon. I believe that this bottle must have got a false bottom to it, to make it look deeper. What rascally fellows those bottlemakers are!
[The Man lights the cigar, and sinks back in the attitude of a blissfully tired man, while his wife ties her hair with the new riband, and goes to look at herself in the darkness of the window-panes.]
The Man.
This cigar must have cost a fortune, it is so mellow and strong. In future I mean always to smoke this brand of cigars.
His Wife.