But then I'm used to husky Westerners." "Oh, I'm fagged with the daily grind," he said.

"I'll be glad to get up in the mountains next month.

Let's go down to dinner." They descended the spiral stairway to the grillroom, where an orchestra was playing jazz, and dancers gyrated on a polished floor, and diners in evening dress looked on over their cigarettes.
"Well, Carley, are you still finicky about the eats ?" he queried, consulting the menu.
"No.

But I prefer plain food," she replied.
"Have a cigarette," he said, holding out his silver monogrammed case.
"Thanks, Larry.

I--I guess I'll not take up smoking again.