Marryat, for instance; who reads Marryat
nowadays? And yet he had read the "Phantom Ship," and so knew
something of Goa. An hour passed very quickly, but at last he rose and
led the way into his study.
"A friend of mine dropped in to see me to-day at the office," he
remarked, "a Cuban planter who comes up to New York occasionally, and
whom I happened to help out of a rather serious difficulty a few years
ago. Perhaps some day I'll tell you about it. He always brings me a
bundle of his own special cigars. I didn't see him to-day, but he left
the cigars, and I want you to try one. Perhaps it will give you an
inspiration."
He went to his desk, opened a tin-foiled package that lay there, and
carefully extracted two long cigars of a rich and glowing brown.
"Perhaps you've heard of the special cigars that are made for Pierpont
Morgan," he went on, as he handed one to me, after carefully replacing
the wrappings of the bundle. "Well, I smoked one of Morgan's cigars
once--it was good, mighty good; but it wasn't in the same class with
these. Light up."
I did. Never before had I drawn between my lips a breath so
satisfying--so rich, so smooth, so full of flavour.
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