“She’s rather delicious.”
“When is she coming to see me?”
“At any moment, but she’s a will-o’-the-wisp. She comes and goes as she wills.”
“She’s slight, then?”
“Oh, slight! You could pull her through a ring.”
Marcus was glad of that.
“Now tell me about your dear self, Marcus.”
There was so little to tell, he said.
“Not when everything interests me—Give me a cigarette.”
“But you used not to—” he began, handing her his cigarette case.