"A cigar?" Again the strange articulation. "Ah, yes, that is it.
Now I remember. And it has a little sister, the cigarette. I think
I shall take a cigarette, if--if--if you will show me how to use
it."

It was a strange request. The clerk was accustomed to all manner
of men and their brands of humour; he was about to answer in kind
when he looked up and into the man's eyes. He started.

"You mean," he asked, "that you have never seen a cigar or
cigarette; that you do not know how to use them? A man as old as
you are."

The stranger laughed. It was rather resentful, but for all that of
a hearty taint of humour.

"So old? Would you say that I am as old as that; if you will look
again--"

The young man did and what he beheld is something that he could
not quite account for: the strange conviction of this remarkable
man; of age melting into youth, of an uncertain freshness, the
smile, not of sixty, but of twenty. The young man was not one to
argue, whatever his wonder; he was first of all a lad of business;
he could merely acquiesce.

"The first time! This is the first time you have ever seen a cigar
or cigarette?"

The stranger nodded.