Beta Book

... Well, so long.
I've got to beat it over and buy a pair of socks before I go back."
Mr. Wrenn crept out of Drubel's behind him, very melancholy.
Even Charley admitted that he "had ought to stay," then; and
what chance was there of persuading the dread Mr. Mortimer R.
Guilfogle that he wished to be looked upon as one resigning?
Where, then, any chance of globe-trotting; perhaps for months he
would remain in slavery, and he had hoped just that morning--
One dreadful quarter-hour with Mr. Guilfogle and he might be free.
He grinned to himself as he admitted that this was like
seeing Europe after merely swimming the mid-winter Atlantic.
Well, he had nine minutes more, by his two-dollar watch; nine
minutes of vagabondage. He gazed across at a Greek restaurant
with signs in real Greek letters like "ruins at--well, at Aythens."
A Chinese chop-suey den with a red-and-yellow carved dragon,
and at an upper window a squat Chinaman who might easily
be carrying a _kris_, "or whatever them Chink knives are," as he
observed for the hundredth time he had taken this journey.


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