Dacres put the cigar thoughtfully in his mouth, struck a light, and tried to light it, but couldn't. Then he bit the end off, which he had forgotten to do before. Then he gave three long, solemn, and portentous puffs. Then he took the cigar between his first and second fingers, and stretched his hand out toward Hawbury.
"Hawbury, my boy," said he again.
"All right."
"You remember the time when I got that bullet in Uruguay?"
"Yes."
"Well, I had a shot to-day."
"A shot! The deuce you had. Cool, too. Any of those confounded bandits about? I thought that was all rot."
"It wasn't a real shot; only figurative."
"Figurative!"
"Yes; it was a—a girl."