Once she had folded her wings and her cool hand had closed about
his own.
At the Biggest Store the next day Masie's chum, Lulu, waylaid her in
an angle of the counter.
"How are you and your swell friend making it? she asked.
"Oh, him?" said Masie, patting her side curls. "He ain't in it any
more. Say, Lu, what do you think that fellow wanted me to do?"
"Go on the stage?" guessed Lulu, breathlessly.
"Nit; he's too cheap a guy for that. He wanted me to marry him and go
down to Coney Island for a wedding tour!"
IV
DOUGHERTY'S EYE-OPENER
Big Jim Dougherty was a sport. He belonged to that race of men.
In Manhattan it is a distinct race. They are the Caribs of the
North--strong, artful, self-sufficient, clannish, honorable within
the laws of their race, holding in lenient contempt neighboring
tribes who bow to the measure of Society's tapeline. I refer, of
course, to the titled nobility of sportdom. There is a class which
bears as a qualifying adjective the substantive belonging to a wind
instrument made of a cheap and base metal. But the tin mines of
Cornwall never produced the material for manufacturing descriptive
nomenclature for "Big Jim" Dougherty.
The habitat of the sport is the lobby or the outside corner of
certain hotels and combination restaurants and cafes. They are mostly
men of different sizes, running from small to large; but they are
unanimous in the possession of a recently shaven, blue-black cheek
and chin and dark overcoats (in season) with black velvet collars.
Pages:
13
14
15
16
17
18
19
20
21
22
23
24
25
26
27
28
29
30
31
32
33
34
35
36
37