Vietnam or Thailand ? Vote for the TOP Country of the Week !
Bean himself had fared in princely fashion that day on two veal cutlets bathed in a German sauce of oily richness, a salad of purple cabbage, a profusion of vegetables, two cups of coffee and a German pancake that of itself would have disabled almost any but the young and hardy, or, presumably, a German. Bean guessed the cost of Breede's meal to be a bit under eight cents.
Before beginning the transcription of his notes, Bean had to learn the latest telephone news from the ball-ground. During the last half-hour he had inwardly raged more than usual at Breede for being kept from this information. Bulger always managed to get it on time, beginning with the third inning, even when he took dictation from Breede's confidential secretary, or from Tully, the chief clerk.
Bean found it disgusting a man who had at least enough leisure to give a little thought to such matters. Breede's shoes offended him. Couldn't the man pick out something natty, a shapelier toe, buttons, a neat upper of tan or blue cloth patent leather, of course?
She was a clever, attractive little thing and he liked her well. He thought of things he would tell her for her own good at the first opportunity. He wondered guiltily when Breede's next attack might be expected, and he had a lively impression that the flapper, too, was more curious than alarmed about this. He seemed to feel that she was actually wishing to be told things by him for her own good.
He thought he would have said this; the masks were very soon bound to be off Breede and himself. The flapper might start the trouble any minute. But Breede had given him no chance for that lovely speech. No good saying it unless you were nagged. He became aware that the "Federal people" Markham had mentioned were gathering in Breede's room. Several of them brushed by him.
As the little old last year's car bore them to the north, some long sleeping-image seemed to stir in Breede's mind. "Got car like this m'self somewheres," he remarked. Bean was relieved. He didn't want the name of a woman to be brought into the matter just then. "'S all right for town work," he said. "Good enough for all I want of a car."
Was it strange that a woman had fallen before him? He reduced the event to its rudiments. He was the affianced husband of Breede's youngest daughter, who didn't believe in long engagements. The thing was incredible, even as he faced Ram-tah. How had he ever done it? "Gee!" he muttered, "how'd I ever have the nerve to do it!" Ram-tah's sleeping face remained still.
His own had cost sixty-five. He despised Breede for a petty economist. Breede glanced up from his papers to encounter in Bean's eyes only a look of respectful waiting. "Take letter G.S. Hubbell gen' traffic mag'r lines Wes' Chicago dear sir your favour twen'th instant " The words came from under that unacceptable moustache of Breede's like a series of exhausts from a motorcycle.
He had once done Breede's personal work, but had been banished to the outer office after Bean's first try-out. Breede had found some mysterious objection to him. Perhaps it was because Bulger would always look up with pleased sagacity, as if he were helping to compose Breede's letters. It may have been simple envy in Breede for his advanced dressing.
He broke away from her at Breede's call. The flapper jerked her head twice at him, very neatly, as the car passed the tennis court. She was beginning a practise volley with Tommy Hollins, who was disporting himself like a young colt. "Chubbins!" he thought. Not a bad name for her, though it had come queerly from Breede.
Word Of The Day