"She's married again."
"The creature! The poor fool she's married! What is his name?"
"Gregory Lamb."
Dr. Twelves rose from his chair as if impelled by a spring. Opening his mouth in apparent forgetfulness of what was between his lips, his cigar fell to the floor, where it remained apparently unnoticed.
"What's that?"
"What's what?"
"What name was that you said?"
"Why, man, what's the matter now? I'm wondering whether the sucking-pig's mounted to your head instead of descending to your stomach. David, you're easily upset these days. Pick up your cigar, it's burning a hole in my floor covering."
"Damn the cigar!"
"And welcome! It's not that I mind. What I object to is your cigar damning my carpet. Pick it up at once, sir."