All the while he was conscious
that he'd made the Seattle Novelty and Stationery Corner Store
come through with a five-hundred-dollar order on one of his letters.
The _Journal_ contained an editorial essay on "Friendship" which
would have been, and was, a credit to Cicero.
He laid down the paper, stirred his large cup of coffee, and
stared at the mother-of-pearl buttons on the waistcoat of the
fat man, who was now gulping down soup, opposite him. "My
land!" he was thinking, "friendship! I ain't even begun to
make all those friends I was going to. Haven't done a thing.
Oh, I will; I must!"
"Nice night," said the fat man.
"Yuh--it sure is," brightly agreed Mr. Wrenn.
"Reg'lar Indian-Summer weather."
"Yes, isn't it! I feel like taking a walk on Riverside
Drive--b'lieve I will."
"Wish I had time. But I gotta get down to the
store--cigar-store. I'm on nights, three times a week."
"Yuh. I've seen you here most every time I eat early,"
Mr. Wrenn purred.
"Yuh. The rest of the time I eat at the boarding-house.
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