Bernard's lying around,
and here and there a golden-haired darling romping and playing
with a bottle of paregoric. But somehow or other I always fall
down. Now, take that Katherine Clark, who has been visiting the
Hemingways for the past month. When she first came I said to
myself, "Billy, my boy, here's your chance; break in and cop out
an heiress." So I sicked myself on to her. Well, you know I'm
not a piker. I went after her right. Eats, drinks, shows, and
all the expensive things. I touched Johnny Black's brother-in-law
for fifty, and gave an informal luncheon that was a pippin. I
wore my New York Central shirt with the four stripes, and we had
wine with cobwebs. There wasn't a thing served that any one could
pronounce, and Johnny Black got loaded and told us on the quiet
why his sister had left her husband. I insulted Johnny by making
some remark about his joining the Tell Club, and altogether
everything was a big success. The check came to $44.60, and I
flashed Johnny's brother-in-law's fifty. When the waiter brought
the five-forty change I waved him away as though the Standard Oil
Company was the smallest thing I owned. The tip was out that old
man Clark was black with money, and if it's so I know why. He is
tight-ribbed and popcorn. Down in George's Place the other day
I asked the old man what he was going to drink, and he said he
would rather have the money.
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