For several minutes neither of us spoke.

Then I looked up to meet my friend's gaze of perturbation.
A waiter was proffering cigars.

I took one, and waved Poor Jr.'s hand away from the box of which the waiter made offering.
"Do not remain!" I whispered, and I saw his sad perplexity.

"I know her answer has not been given.

Will you present him his chance to receive it--just when her sympathy must be stronger for him, since she will think he has had to bear rudeness ?" He went out of the door quickly.
I dod not smoke.