The subject leaned forward in his chair, gazing with cynical eyes at the fevered throng.

Wine, women, song, all had palled.

Gambling had no charm--he looked with disrelish at the cigarette he had but just lighted.
"All right, Paul, that's good.

Now get that bunch over at the crap table." Merton Gill lost no time in relinquishing his cigarette.

He dropped it into the wine glass which became a symbol of Broadway's dead-sea fruit.
Thereafter he smoked only when he was in the picture.