In himself was a touch of the same quality.
"Do you love playing ?" she asked him.
"Yes," he said, with that shadow of irony which seemed like a smile on his face.
"Live for it, so to speak," she said.
"I make my living by it," he said.
"But that's not really how you take it ?" she said.

He eyed her.

She watched him over her cigarette.

It was a personal moment.
"I don't think about it," he said.
"I'm sure you don't.

You wouldn't be so good if you did.