from you." Her pretty head was wreathed in smoke.

She tipped the ashes from the cigarette's end, watching them fall to powder on the rug.
"I don't know what you mean," he persisted doggedly.
"Don't you?
I don't believe I do, either.

There are intervals in my career which might prove eloquent if I opened my lips.

But I don't, except to make floating rings and cabalistic signs out of cigarette smoke.

Can you read their meaning?
Look! There goes one, and there's another, and another--all twisting and uncurling into hieroglyphics.
They are very significant; they might tell you a lot of things, if you would only translate them.