And they come again and again. They never give up.
They've got visions of making a conquest some day--on $1.50. And when a
new girl comes into the shop--boy, don't the buzzards buzz! I came here
six months ago and they started it on me. But I wasn't born yesterday. I'd
been a manicure in Indianapolis. And they're just the same in Indianapolis
as they are in Chicago. And they're just the same in Podunk.
"Now, I'm not going to mention any names. But take your city directory and
begin with Ab Abner and go right on through to Zeke Zimbo and don't skip
any. And you'll get a clear idea about the particular gentlemen I'm
talking about."
* * * * *
Peewee sighed and shook her head.
"Are you busy?" inquired the head manicurist.
"Not at all," said Peewee, "not at all."
Peewee's biographer asked a final question. To which she responded as
follows:
"Well, I'll get married. Maybe. When I find the exception I was telling
you about--the gentleman who isn't a stranger in town and in need of a
little guide. There must be one of them somewhere. Unless they was all
killed in the war."
THE SOUL OF SING LEE
The years have made a cartoon out of Sing Lee. A withered yellow face with
motionless black eyes.
Pages:
199
200
201
202
203
204
205
206
207
208
209
210
211
212
213
214
215
216
217
218
219
220
221
222
223