"Excuse--please--excuse," spluttered the polite little Jap as he
gracefully presented the salver to each guest.
Fanny took a glass, followed in turn by Jimmie, who, extending his
clumsy hand, snatched one of the dainty glasses and put it to his
lips. The butler, all smiles and civility, placed the tray on a table
and again bowed low. Pointing to the tray, he said:
"Cigarettes and cigars! Is there anything else?"
"Not for me," replied Jimmie, making himself comfortable in a chair on
the other side of the table.
"Nor for me," smiled Fanny, graciously.
"No, thank you," added Virginia quickly. "We need nothing else."
"Then excuse, please. Excuse--"
The butler salaamed and withdrew, leaving Jimmie and Fanny sipping
their cocktails, while Virginia, still interested in the hundred and
one curios scattered about the rooms, strolled around alone.
"Some cocktail, eh?" grinned Jimmie, smacking his lips.
"Fine!" exclaimed his fiancee, emptying her glass and putting it down
on the table.
Suddenly the clerk's eyes, wandering idly around the room, alighted on
the tray filled with cigar and cigarette boxes which the butler had
left behind. Rising and going to the table, he stood staring greedily
at some expensive perfectos. Finally, unable any longer to withhold
his itching palm, he put out his hand and selected one. He lit it and
for a few moments puffed away with evident satisfaction. The more he
puffed and inhaled the weed's fragrant aroma, the more sorry he was
that he had none of the same brand at home.
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