BOTCHAN
swollen but for the Madonna to cast off such a splendid fellow and give preference to Red Shirt, was frivolous beyond my understanding. Put how many dozens of Red Shirt you like together, it will not make one husband of stuff to beat Hubbard Squash.
“Is anything wrong with you? You look quite fatigued,” I asked.
“No, I have no particular ailments….”
“That’s good. Poor health is the worst thing one can get.”
“You appear very strong.”
“Yes, I’m thin, but never got sick. That’s something I don’t like.”
Hubbard Squash smiled at my words. Just then I heard some young girlish laughs at the entrance, and incidentally looking that way, I saw a “peach.” A beautiful girl, tall, white-skinned, with her head done up in “high-collared” style, was standing with a woman of about forty-five or six, in front of the ticket window. I am not a
–160–
