Before the bidding for this priceless souvenir is opened I desire,
ladies and gentlemen, to state briefly----"
* * * * *
Nathan Ludlow is an auctioneer who knows all the things an auctioneer must
know. His eye is piercing. His tongue can roll and rattle for twelve hours
at a stretch. His voice is the voice of the tempter, myriad-toned and
irresistible.
It was evening. An auspicious evening. It was the evening of Mr. Ludlow's
divorce. And Mr. Ludlow sat in his room at the Morrison Hotel, a decanter
of juniper juice at his elbow. And while he sat he talked. The subjects
varied. There were tales of Ming vases and Satsuma bargains, of porcelains
and rugs. And finally Mr. Ludlow arrived at the subject of audiences. And
from this subject he progressed with the aid of the juniper juice to the
subject of wives. And from the subject of wives he stepped casually into
the sad story of his life.
"I'll tell you," said Mr. Ludlow. "Tonight I'm a free man. Judge Pam gave
me, or gave her, rather, the divorce. I guess he did well. Maybe she was
entitled to it. Desertion and cruelty were the charges. But they don't
mean anything. The chief complaint she had against me was that I was an
auctioneer.
Pages:
3
4
5
6
7
8
9
10
11
12
13
14
15
16
17
18
19
20
21
22
23
24
25
26
27