Eliot plucks free a cigarette and lights it in a similar manner as he had with Jean's - a little gesture, though this one produces a flame from his fingertip, which he holds to the end as he takes a long drag, eyes half closing in genuine pleasure. He, too, uses his free hand to shield things from the rain.

"Who's 'she'?" he asks, not terribly interested, but feeling magnanimous, now that he has a little tobacco in his lungs. "Are you married? I suppose that would explain the eyes."