"Say, Mac, yuh oughtta get some sportier suit than that cremation cloth you're always wearin'."
"In what, my queen, does it offend you?"
"They're black, but they gimme the blues." She looked around proudly as she emitted this sparkle. "You look like a continuous wake."
"I wear them from sentiment."
"Sentiment—the Hell you say! 'Sleft outta your system."
"There you're in error, my dear, there's a vein, deep in my nature, which your more obtuse one hasn't touched,—a vein, tender and pure and unalloyed. You see," he grew rarely communicative, "it's for my parents. The dear old people booked me for the Amen corner, and later the big-time pulpit"
"Yuh look the part!"
"And occasionally it can be useful. I can splice a man and an untoward girl without even a license—for a night—and a consideration."
"Oh, mister, ain't yuh got no respect for my innocence!" She surveyed him critically, "yes, yuh look it, with them bits of cracked ice. Yuh oughtn't ta wear 'em—they give you away."
"My lucky stones, ever since a happy night up in Nome."
He shed exquisite reminiscence. Much red blood had been spilled that night, much yellow gold exchanged.
"They were Cal Fresno's. And he cashed in when he forgot to wear them one evening. Same thing happened to Forty-nine Halliday when he grew careless, just as Lucky
