It was no more than a
murmur; no more than a nudge on the shoulder,
Cheap Newport Cigarettes, a finger on the nose, a
buzz that ran through the cluster of jewellers in Hatton Garden on a hot
afternoon--oh, many years ago now! But still Oliver felt it purring down
his spine, the nudge, the murmur that meant, "Look at him--young Oliver,
the young jeweller--there he goes." Young he was then. And he dressed
better and better; and had, first a hansom cab; then a car; and first he
went up to the dress circle,
Wholesale Newport Cigarettes, then down into the stalls. And he had a
villa at Richmond, overlooking the river, with trellises of red roses;
and Mademoiselle used to pick one every morning and stick it in his
buttonhole.
"So," said Oliver Bacon,
Cheap Newport 100s, rising and stretching his legs. "SO . . ."