'Did you knock?' he said, opening, as a man must do, with the inevitable foolish question.
The apparition spoke.
'Say,' she said, 'got a cigarette?'
'I'm afraid I haven't,' said Rutherford, apologetically. 'I've been smoking a pipe. I'm very sorry.'
'What?' said the apparition.
'I'm afraid I haven't.'
'Oh!' A pause. 'Say, got a cigarette?'
The intellectual pressure of the conversation was beginning to be a little too much for Rutherford. Combined with the heat of the night it made his head swim.
His visitor advanced into the room. Arriving at the table, she began fiddling with its contents. The pen seemed to fascinate her. She picked it up and inspected it closely.
'Say, what d'you call this?' she said.