“You are a quiet old boy, aren’t you?” whispered Miss Esme.
Wynne started and raised his head.
“What—what’s that?”
“I say you are quiet.”
“Oh, yes.”
“Funny old boy!”
He called a waiter.
“Get me some more cigarettes—these little boxes hold none at all.”
“You smoke too much.”
He played with a cold cigarette-end upon his plate.