otimes I reflected (rue enoug if it been me it less s? A damn sig t gone to to t ended up like everybody else, a fat old a frotle saco call a string of kids as ed and died lamented—and migcy-court, if she was lucky.
t any hem.
‘I don’t kno any amber ones just at present, sir. Not amber. e gossome nice vulcanite ones.’
‘I ed an amber one,’ I said.
‘e gossome nice pipes ‘ere.’ S. ‘t’s a nice pipe, no one is.’
I took it. Our fingers toucion. t remember. And I suppose you t t for old sake’s sake, to put . But not a bit of it. I didn’t t smoke a pipe. I’d merely been making a pretext to come into turned it over in my fingers and t it doer.
‘Doesn’t matter, I’ll leave it,’ I said. ‘Give me a small Players’.’
o buy someter all t fuss. George ted out a packet of Players’, still muncacea for not it seemed too damn silly to e and t I ever saw of Elsie.
I back to ter out o tures, if t instead I landed up in one of t of too a couple of caffordsravelling in talking about tate of trade, and playing darts and drinking Guinness. By closing time t I o take taxi, and I under t morning I han ever.