Carson Haggerty. From America--California--too. Mr. Hag'ty,
Mr. Wrenn."
"Pleased meet you," said both men in the same tone of annoyance.
Mr. Wrenn implored: "I--uh--I thought you might like to look at
these magazines. Just dropped in to give them to you." He was
ready to go.
"Thank you--so good of you. _Please_ sit down. Carson and I
were only fighting--he's going pretty soon. We knew each other
at art school in Berkeley. Now he knows all the toffs in London."
"Mr. Wrenn," said the best little poet, "I hope you'll back up
my contention. Izzy says th--"
"Carson, I have told you just about enough times that I do not
intend to stand for `Izzy' any more! I should think that even
_you_ would be able to outgrow the standard of wit that obtains in
first-year art class at Berkeley."
Mr. Haggerty showed quite all of his ragged teeth in a noisy
joyous grin and went on, unperturbed: "Miss Nash says that the
best European thought, personally gathered in the best salons,
shows that the Rodin vogue is getting the pickle-eye from all
the real yearners.
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