Brummels of the thoroughfares what was doing in London in the necktie line. I sold them coats with padded shoulders, and collars high and awe inspir ing. I was happy, twisting a piece of silk over my hand to show them how it would look on their heaving bosoms. And then—she came."
Mr. Bland puffed on his cigar.
"Yes," he said, "Arabella sparkled on the hori zon of my life. When I have been here in the quiet for about two centuries, maybe I can do justice to her beauty. I won't attempt to describe her now. I loved her—madly. She said I made a hit with her. I spent on her the profits of my haberdash ery. I whispered—marriage. She didn't scream. I had my wedding necktie picked out from the samples of a drummer from Troy." He paused and looked at Mr. Magee. "Have you ever stood, poised, on that brink?" he asked.
"Never," replied Magee. "But go on. Your story attracts me, strangely."
"From here on—the tear I spoke of, please. There flashed on the scene a man she had known and loved in Jersey City. I said flashed. He did —just that. A swell dresser—say, he had John
