"I wish all users of the narcotic were as mindful of the
comfort and health of their neighbours. Regard for the feelings of
others is perhaps the chief distinguishing mark of a gentleman."
"Meestare Bulky ees a shentleman, bot he 'ave no sharitay for smokinga
men," replied Pierre, ruefully.
"That's where the shoe pinches, not your feet, Wilks," said the lawyer,
with a laugh. "You could touch bottom, like Mr. Bulky, with these
gunboats, but on all your privileged classes. Why should Bulky bulk so
large in any place of entertainment as to send everybody else to a
stable? Catch me smoking with that old garlic-perfumed Batiste! How
about the garlic, and peppermint, and musk, and sauer-kraut, and all the
other smells. Any smells about Mr. Bulky, Pierre?"
"Aw yehs; 'ees feeshing goat smale, aw, eet smale an' smale of som stoff
he call ass-afeetiter, ze feesh liike ze smale, bot I am not a feesh."
"See that now, Wilks. This selfish pig of a Bulky, as Monsieur says, has
no charity. He drives clean, wholesome smoke out of the hotel, and
stinks the place up with as nasty a chemical mixture as disgusting
science ever invented.
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