"Smoke?
I'm sure I don't know.

You know the regulations better than I." "I?
I never was here before!" "Never! in six years ?" "I believe my wife dragged me here once when we first came to Paris, but I never found my way back." "But you say you know Paris so well!" "I don't call this Paris!" cried Mr.Tristram, with assurance.

"Come; let's go over to the Palais Royal and have a smoke." "I don't smoke," said Newman.
"A drink, then." And Mr.Tristram led his companion away.

They passed through the glorious halls of the Louvre, down the staircases, along the cool, dim galleries of sculpture, and out into the enormous court.

Newman looked about him as he went, but he made no comments, and it was only when they at last emerged into the open air that he said to his friend, "It seems to me that in your place I should have come here once a week." "Oh, no you wouldn't!" said Mr.Tristram.