The moon slowly rose over the tops of the great trees.
Bettina took a box of cigars from the table.

"Do you smoke ?" said she.
"Yes, Miss Percival." "Take one, Monsieur Jean.

It can't be helped.

I have said it.

Take one--but no, listen to me first." And speaking in a low voice, while offering him the box of cigars: "It is getting dark, now you may blush at your ease.