Oh, boy! Yes, sir--too bad he's
married--isn't it, Pete?"
"'Sa shame."
At half past seven, when they had completed the six rounds, Anthony
found that his intentions were giving audience to his desires. He was
happy and cheerful now--thoroughly enjoying himself. It seemed to him
that the story which Pete had just finished telling was unusually and
profoundly humorous--and he decided, as he did every day at about this
point, that they were "damn good fellows, by golly!" who would do a lot
more for him than any one else he knew. The pawnshops would remain open
until late Saturday nights, and he felt that if he took just one more
drink he would attain a gorgeous rose-colored exhilaration.
Artfully, he fished in his vest pockets, brought up his two quarters,
and stared at them as though in surprise.
"Well, I'll be darned," he protested in an aggrieved tone, "here I've
come out without my pocketbook."
"Need some cash?" asked Lytell easily.
"I left my money on the dresser at home. And I wanted to buy you another
drink."
"Oh--knock it." Lytell waved the suggestion away disparagingly. "I guess
we can blow a good fella to all the drinks he wants.
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