The moon smiles assentingly, and smokers know that she really lends herself to the enjoyment of tobacco.
The postillion could remember gentlemen who did not object: who had even given him cigars.

Turning round to see if haply the present inmate of the chariot might be smoking, he observed a head extended from the window.
'How far are we ?' was inquired.
The postillion numbered the milestones passed.
'Do you see anything of the coach ?' 'Can't say as I do, sir.' He was commanded to stop.

Evan jumped out.
'I don't think I'll take you any farther,' he said.
The postillion laughed to scorn the notion of his caring how far he went.

With a pipe in his mouth, he insinuatingly remarked, he could jog on all night, and throw sleep to the dogs.

Fresh horses at Hillford; fresh at Fallow field: and the gentleman himself would reach Lymport fresh in the morning.
'No, no; I won't take you any farther,' Evan repeated.
'But what do it matter, sir ?' urged the postillion.
'I'd rather go on as I am.