Cigars were lighted.

Soon the air of the room became blue with an acrid haze of smoke.

It was very warm.

Ranged in their chairs around the side of the room, the guests emptied glass after glass.
Vanamee alone refused to drink.

He sat a little to one side, disassociating himself from what was going forward, watching the others calmly, a little contemptuously, a cigarette in his fingers.
Hooven, after drinking his third glass, however, was afflicted with a great sadness; his breast heaved with immense sighs.