Whatever his taste in rats, 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.