“Silly thing to mark ’em like that,” remarked the new man. “It’s throwing temptation in anybody’s way. I should say they’re likely enough worth about fifteen pence to one-and-six a-piece.” “How d’you know?” “I don’t profess to know,” said the new man hurriedly. “I’m only giving a rough estimate. But bless my soul,” he went on after a pause, “what a refining influence a cigar has.” “If it’s a good one,” suggested a boy porter. “They’re all good,” declared the new man with enthusiasm. “They’re like the ladies in that respect. Some are better’n others, but they’re all good.” “Not a married man, then?” asked a foreman. “I’m a bloomin’ bachelor,” said the new chum. “And what a thing it is on your Sunday off, when you’re waiting at the end of her road, to light up a cigar with a fine aroma to it. It not only gives you an air of belonging to the ’igher aristocracy, but it also carries away any suspicion of corduroy that might be ’anging about.” “I’ve never give less than twopence,” remarked the boy porter. “I’m sorry for you,” said the new man. “I should have thought a chap with your fore’ead had got more ambition. Why, when I was a lad of your height—” “Pardon me,” interrupted the foreman, “you seem to ’ave a most extr’ordinary flow of conversation.” “I’m celebrated for it.” “I wonder,” said the foreman curiously, “whether you’d mind stopping it for a moment and doing a bit of work instead. Reason I suggest it is that the Company pays you for what you do and not for what you talk.” “I can take a ’int,” said the new man coldly.