Taggart took snuff.
“Do you think I could write one?”
Taggart uplifted his two forefingers as if to tap,—he did not, however.
“It would require time,” said I, with a half sigh.
Taggart tapped his box.
“A great deal of time; I really think that my ballads . . .”
Taggart took snuff.
“If published, would do me credit. I’ll make an effort, and offer them to some other publisher.”
Taggart took a double quantity of snuff.