"Oh, but the STORY of it!" exclaimed Condy as he and Travis regained the wharf--"the story of it! Isn't it a ripper.

Isn't it a corker! His leaving her that way, and never caring for any other girl afterward." "And so original," she commented, quite as enthusiastic as he.
"Original ?--why, it's new as paint! It's--it's--Travis, I'll make a story out of this that will be copied in every paper between the two oceans." They were so interested in the mate's story that they forgot to take a car, and walked up Clay Street talking it over, suggesting, rearranging, and embellishing; and Condy was astonished and delighted to note that she "caught on" to the idea as quickly as he, and knew the telling points and what details to leave out.
"And I'll make a bang-up article out of the whaleback herself," declared Condy.

The "idea" of the article had returned to him, and all his enthusiasm with it.
"And look here," he said, showing her the letter from the Centennial Company.

"They turned down my book, but see what they say.
"Quite an unusual order of merit!" cried Travis.

"Why, that's fine! Why didn't you show this to me before ?--and asking you like this to write them a novel of adventure! What MORE can you want?
Oh!" she exclaimed impatiently, "that's so like you; you would tell everybody about your reverses, and carry on about them yourself, but never say a word when you get a little boom.