She raised her eyes to find Holcombe looking at her intently with a
strange expression of wistfulness and pity, at which she smiled
brightly back at him, and began to plan vivaciously with Captain Reese
for a ride that same afternoon.

They separated over the steamer's deck, and Meakim, for the hundredth
time, and in the lack of conversation which comes at such moments,
offered Holcombe a fresh cigar.

"But I have got eight of yours now," said Holcombe.

"That's all right; put it in your pocket," said the Tammany chieftain,
"and smoke it after dinner. You'll need 'em. They're better than those
you'll get on the steamer, and they never went through a
custom-house."

Holcombe cleared his throat in some slight embarrassment. "Is there
anything I can do for you in New York, Meakim?" he asked. "Anybody I
can see, or to whom I can deliver a message?"

"No," said Meakim. "I write pretty often. Don't you worry about me,"
he added, gratefully. "I'll be back there some day myself, when the
law of limitation lets me."

Holcombe laughed. "Well," he said, "I'd be glad to do something for
you if you'd let me know what you'd like."

Meakim put his hands behind his back and puffed meditatively on his
cigar, rolling it between his lips with his tongue. Then he turned it
between his fingers and tossed the ashes over the side of the boat. He