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Abey Lewis did not at all understand her, though he had handled a variety of people during his long career as a purveyor of "refined vaudeville" to the public. He confessed as much to Mr. Smitherton, with whom, as Miss Burton's business manager, he came into constant association. "I don't get her at all, Mr. Smitherton," he querulously complained.
And say, it wa'n't so long ago that Abey was wearin' sky-blue pants and a Postal shield, trottin' out with messages from District Ten. But here he is, with a checked ulster and a five-dollar hat, writin' figures on a pad. "Hello, Motzie!" says I. "How long since they lets the likes of you inside the ropes?" "Hello, Torchy!" says he. "Got any orders?" "I'm lined with 'em," says I. "What's good?"
"See here, Abey," she said, in a low voice, "you're making the worst mistake of your life. Apparently this man hasn't been discovered. When he is, you know what'll happen." "Vere doss he come from?" "I don't know. Billy here brought him. I said he must have come out of a stained glass window in St. Bartholomew's Church." "Oho, ho!" said T-S. "Anyhow, he's new, and he's too good to keep.
Here we sit, with three times as much food before us as we can eat; and all over this city are poor devils with nothing to eat, and no homes to go to don't you know that's true, Abey? Don't you know it, Maw?" "Looka here, kid," said the magnate; "you know vot'll happen to you if you git to broodin' over tings? You git your face full o' wrinkles you already gone and spoilt your make-up."
When he sat down beside Smitherton, Abey Lewis shook his head. "I ain't sure we didn't make a mistake in giving her a straight dramatic sketch," he said dubiously. "She ain't got no emotion. She needs more pep. Now if she had an act with lots of changes of costume something that would show her off better, it might go bigger." Smitherton growled.
I couldn't 'ave enjoyed the money properly, not if you'd 'ad to be 'ung for the boy's murder. That's wot I said to old Abey two weeks back, when I told 'im as 'ow Billy's life went more in danger than anyone else's what I could think of, through your being such a brutal, violent-tempered, dangerous man."
But I could read his thoughts; everybody would assume that he had been "on location" with one of his stars; and anyhow, what the hell? Wasn't he Abey Tszchniczklefritszch? "Wor-r-r-r-r! Wor-r-r-r-r-r!" snarled the horn of the car; and I could understand the meaning of this also. It said: "I am the car of Abey Tszchniczklefritszch, king of the movies, future king of the world.
Olga Obosky and her three dancing-girls, Careni-Amori, and several of the Brazilian ladies possess Ostend costumes in which they disport themselves with complacent disregard for public opinion, favourable or otherwise. "She's got 'em all skinned a mile," was Morris Shine's comment upon Olga's lithe, graceful figure. "Ain't that so, Abey?" The remark was addressed to Abel Landover.
"Abey," he said, "you will have to take Mr. Platt around to-night and show him things. They are customers for ten years. Mr. Navarro and I we played chess every moment of spare time when he came. That is good, but Mr. Platt is a young man and this is his first visit to New York. He should amuse easily." "All right," said Abey, screwing the guard tightly on his pin. "I'll take him on.
"I won't tell you that," I laughed, "because you'd turn and stare into their faces." "So he vould!" broke in Maw. "How often I gotta tell you, Abey? You got no more manners dan if you vas a jimpanzy." "All right," said the magnate, grinning good naturedly. "I'll keep a-eatin' my dinner. Who is it?" "It's Mrs.
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