Beta Book

"
Mr. Wrenn knew that the ticket-taker had never, never really
considered biting his wife. _He_ knew! His nod and grin and
"That's the idea!" were urbanely sophisticated. He urged:
"Oh yes, I'm sure you didn't intend to hand me the icy mitt.
Say! I'm thirsty. Come on over to Moje's and I'll buy you a drink."
He was aghast at this abyss of money-spending into which he had
leaped, and the Brass-button Man was suspiciously wondering what
this person wanted of him; but they crossed to the adjacent
saloon, a New York corner saloon, which of course "glittered"
with a large mirror, heaped glasses, and a long shining
foot-rail on which, in bravado, Mr. Wrenn placed his
Cum-Fee-Best shoe.
"Uh?" said the bartender.
"Rye, Jimmy," said the Brass-button Man.
"Uh-h-h-h-h," said Mr. Wrenn, in a frightened diminuendo, now
that--wealthy citizen though he had become--he was in danger of
exposure as a mollycoddle who couldn't choose his drink properly.
"Stummick been hurting me. Guess I'd better just take a lemonade.


Pages:
20 21 22 23 24 25 26 27 28 29 30 31 32 33 34 35 36 37 38 39 40 41 42 43 44