It was a perfect windless spring day, a Sunday. Still he had a decent look, and decidedly the air of one well-to-do in the world. "I can't hold it much longer—it'll break my wrist. He reached a silver cigar and cigarette box from the sideboard and put it before his father-in-law, and for a time the preliminaries of smoking occupied them both. The voice of the young seaman came floating down from the masthead, and the story of the immortal lovers had begun. “I do not even know who you are. Will you take it in to him?” The young man smiled in a superior manner.
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