Let me tell you that I heard she's no better than
she might be. I have it on good authority that three weeks ago, at the
River House, in our town--"
Their heads came close together over the little, rose-shaded
restaurant table.
At eleven o'clock next morning Fat Ed Meyers walked into the office of
the T. A. Buck Featherloom Petticoat Company and asked to see old T.
A.
"He's in Europe," a stenographer informed him, "spaing, and
sprudeling, and badening. Want to see T. A. Junior?"
"T. A. Junior!" almost shouted Ed Meyers. "You don't mean to tell me
_that_ fellow's taken hold--"
"Believe _me_. That's why Featherlooms are soaring and Sans-silks are
sinking. Nobody would have believed it. T. A. Junior's got a live wire
looking like a stick of licorice. When they thought old T. A. was
going to die, young T. A. seemed to straighten out all of a sudden and
take hold. It's about time. He must be almost forty, but he don't show
it. I don't know, he ain't so good-looking, but he's got swell eyes.
Pages:
109
110
111
112
113
114
115
116
117
118
119
120
121
122
123
124
125
126
127
128
129
130
131
132
133