Navarro & Platt were good customers, and never failed to take their discount for cash.
“And what did you think of our little town?” asked Zizzbaum, with the fatuous smile of the Manhattanite.
“I shouldn’t care to live in it,” said the Texan. “Your son and I knocked around quite a little last night. You’ve got good water, but Cactus City is better lit up.”
“We’ve got a few lights on Broadway, don’t you think, Mr. Platt?”
“And a good many shadows,” said Platt. “I think I like your horses best. I haven’t seen a crowbait since I’ve been in town.”
Zizzbaum led him upstairs to show the samples of suits,
“Ask Miss Asher to come,” he said to a clerk.
Miss Asher came, and Platt, of Navarro & Platt, felt for the first time the wonderful bright light of romance and glory descend upon him. He stood still as a granite cliff above the cañon of the Colorado, with his wide-open eyes fixed upon her. She noticed his look and flushed a little, which was contrary to her custom.
Miss Asher was the crack model of Zizzbaum & Son. She was of the blond type known as “medium,” and her measurements even went the required 38–25–42 standard a little better. She had been at Zizzbaum’s two years, and knew her business. Her eye was
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