“or “this is the life.” He liked Shiphead, a friendly sort of town with good pubs, two handy billiard saloons, a dance hall and a regular Saturday night boxing show. He liked the change, his lodgings, his office—a single room across from the Fountain Hotel, complete with telephone, two chairs, a desk for his feet, a safe, a racing calendar and walls pasted with cut-outs of everybody from Jack Johnson to Vesta Victoria. He liked his new light brown suit, his new watch-chain worn between the top p...ockets of his waistcoat. He liked his finger-nails—cultivated with a pen-knife while his hat sat on the back of his head and his feet rested on the top of his desk—he liked the way he was getting off with the nice little pusher who glittered in the pay box of the new picture palace. And above all he liked his work. The work was a pinch, nothing to do but collect the slips and the money, ’phone the slips through to Dick Jobey in Tynecastle and hold the money till Saturday night when Dick came over himself to collect it.MoreLessRead More Read Less
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