Then his head dropped again in his hands, and he groaned
aloud.
CHAPTER VIII.
There was one man on board the _Caloric_ to whom Wentworth had taken an
extreme dislike. His name was Fleming, and he claimed to be a New York
politician. As none of his friends or enemies asserted anything worse
about him, it may be assumed that Fleming had designated his occupation
correctly. If Wentworth were asked what he most disliked about the man,
he would probably have said his offensive familiarity. Fleming seemed to
think himself a genial good fellow, and he was immensely popular with a
certain class in the smoking-room. He was lavishly free with his
invitations to drink, and always had a case of good cigars in his pocket,
which he bestowed with great liberality. He had the habit of slapping a
man boisterously on the back, and saying, 'Well, old fellow, how are you?
How's things?' He usually confided to his listeners that he was a
self-made man: had landed at New York without a cent in his pocket, and
look at him now!
Wentworth was icy towards this man; but frigidity had no effect whatever
on the exuberant spirits of the New York politician.
'Well, old man!' cried Fleming to Wentworth, as he came up to the latter
and linked arms affectionately. 'What lovely weather we are having for
winter time!'
'It _is_ good,' said Wentworth.
'Good? It's glorious! Who would have thought, when leaving New York in a
snowstorm as we did, that we would run right into the heart of spring? I
hope you are enjoying your voyage?'
'I am.
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