Checking an ominous cough, that, ever and anon, convulsed her lungs, the poor woman addressed a few parting words to her companion, who lingered at the doorway as if he had something on his mind, which he did not very well know how to communicate. If not, I have plenty to think about,” she answered, leaning back in her chair, and watching the smoke from her own cigarette curl upwards. F. "I quarrel with no man's political opinions, but I will have my own respected!" "Eh day!" exclaimed Mrs. “Too greasy for me. ‘Point it at me.
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