Cigarette smoke did not appeal to him. His mistress's fondness for it
was her only failing in his eyes.

She went on reflectively, her eyes upon the sky-line. "I shall have to
take in washing to eke out a modest living in cigarettes and chocolates.
I can't subsist on Mr. Rickett's Woodbines, that's quite certain. I
wonder if there's a pawnshop anywhere near."

Her voice was low and peculiarly soft; she uttered her words with
something of a drawl. Her hands were clasped about her knees, delicate
hands that yet looked capable. The lips that held the cigarette were
delicately moulded also, but they had considerable character.

"If I were Lady Joanna Farringmore, I suppose I should say something
rather naughty in French, Columbus, to relieve my feelings. But you and I
don't talk French, do we? And we have struck the worthy Lady Jo and all
her crowd off our visiting-list for some time to come. I don't suppose
any of them will miss us much, do you, old chap? They'll just go on round
and round in the old eternal waltz and never realize that it leads to
nowhere." She stretched out her arms suddenly towards the horizon; then
turned and lay down by Columbus on the shingle. "Oh, I'm glad we've cut
adrift, aren't you? Even without cigarettes, it's better than London."

Again Columbus signified his agreement by kissing her hair, in a rather
gingerly fashion on account of the smoke; after which, as she seemed to
have nothing further to say, he got up, shook himself, and trotted off to
explore the crannies in the cliffs.

His mistress pillowed her dark head on her arm, and lay still, with the
sea singing along the ridge of shingle below her. She finished her