"Dink, it's a shame," said McCarthy gleefully. "Finest cigars I ever smoked."
They shook hands and Stover, overcome by the look of pain he had seen in the eyes of the patriots on their final surrender at ten dollars, said, with a patriotic remorse:
"Poor devils! Think what they're fighting for! If I hadn't been so lavish to-day, I'd have given them the full price."
"I feel sort of bad about it myself."
About ten o'clock they rose by a common impulse and, seeking out the cigars with caressing fingers, indulged in another smoke.
"Dink, this is certainly living," said McCarthy, reclining in that position which his favorite magazine artist ascribed to men of the world when indulging in extravagant desires.
"Pretty high rolling, old geezer."
"I like this better than the first one."
"Of course with a well-seasoned rare old cigar you don't get all the beauty of it right at first."