And the hands, so full of contradictory suggestion, aroused her interest.
As though in response to her thoughts, the newspaper suddenly crackled down on to its owner's knees.
"I have every intention of smoking," he announced aggressively.

"This is a smoking carriage." Sara, supported by the recollection of a dainty little gold and enamel affair in her hand-bag, filled with some very special Russian cigarettes, smiled amiably.
"I know it is," she replied in unruffled tones.

"That's why I got in.

I, too, have every intention of smoking." He stared at her in silence for a moment, then, without further comment, produced a pipe and tobacco pouch from the depths of a pocket, and proceeded to fill the former, carefully pressing down the tobacco with the tip of one of those slender, capable-looking fingers.
Sara observed him quickly.

As he lounged there indolently in his corner, she was aware of a subtle combination of strength and fine tempering in the long, supple lines of his limbs--something that suggested the quality of steel, hard, yet pliant.