Beta Book

"Let's go over and
look at the trains."
"Funny little boxes, ain't they, Wrenn, them cars! Quaint
things. What is it they call 'em--carriages? First, second,
third class...."
"Just like in books."
"Booking-office. That's tickets.... Funny, eh?"
Mr. Wrenn insisted on paying for both their high teas at the
cheap restaurant, timidly but earnestly. Morton was troubled.
As they sat on a park bench, smoking those most Anglican
cigarettes, "Dainty Bits," Mr. Wrenn begged:
"What's the matter, old man?"
"Oh, nothing. Just thinking." Morton smiled artificially.
He added, presently: "Well, old Bill, got to make the break.
Can't go on living on you this way."
"Aw, thunder! You ain't living on me. Besides, I want you to.
Honest I do. We can have a whole lot better time together, Morty."
"Yes, but--Nope; I can't do it. Nice of you. Can't do it,
though. Got to go on my own, like the fellow says."
"Aw, come on. Look here; it's my money, ain't it? I got a
right to spend it the way I want to, haven't I? Aw, come on.


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