He had first known McCarthy years before when he was a reporter, and more recently had renewed the acquaintance in his walks across the bridge.
"I didn't know you were there, McCarthy," he said.
"No ?" said the officer.

"And who were ye jabbin' at, thin ?" "I was just limbering up my wrist," said Cleggett.
"'Tis a quare thing to do," persisted McCarthy, albeit good-humoredly.
"And now I mind I've seen ye do the same before, Mr.Cleggett.

You're foriver grinnin' to yersilf an' makin' thim funny jabs at nothin' as ye cross the bridge.

Are ye subjict to stiffness in the wrists, Mr.
Cleggett ?" "Perhaps it's writer's cramp," said Cleggett, indulging the pleasant humor that was on him.

He was really thinking that, with $500,000 of his own, he had written his last headline, edited his last piece of copy, sharpened his last pencil.
"Writer's cramp?
Is it so ?" mused McCarthy.