Титан

The Revival of Hattie Starr

           

           Suddenlyfromaneighboringdoor,openingfromthemen’scafeandgrill,thereappearedthesemi-intoxicatedfigureofanostensiblyswaggersocietyman,hisclothingsomewhatawry,anopera-coathanginglooselyfromoneshoulder,acrush-opera-hatdanglinginonehand,hiseyesalittlebloodshot,hisunderlipprotrudingslightlyanddefiantly,andhiswholevisageproclaimingthatdevil-may-care,superior,andmaliciousaspectwhichthedrunkenrakedoesnotsomuchassumeasachieve.Helookedsullenly,uncertainlyabout;then,perceivingCowperwoodandhisparty,madehiswaythitherinthehalf-determined,half-inconsequentialfashionofonenotquitesoundafterhiscups.WhenhewasdirectlyoppositeCowperwood’stablethecynosureofanumberofeyeshesuddenlypausedasifinrecognition,and,comingover,laidagenialandyetcondescendinghandonMrs.Carter’sbareshoulder.

           "Why,hello,Hattie!"hecalled,leeringlyandjeeringly."WhatareyoudoingdownhereinNewYork?Youhaven’tgivenupyourbusinessinLouisville,haveyou,eh,oldsport?Say,lemmetellyousomething.Ihaven’thadasingledecentgirlsinceyouleftnotone.Ifyouopenahousedownhere,letmeknow,willyou?"

           Hebentoverhersmirkinglyandpatronizinglythewhilehemadeasiftorummageinhiswhitewaistcoatpocketforacard.AtthesamemomentCowperwoodandBraxmar,realizingquiteclearlytheimportofhiswords,wereontheirfeet.WhileMrs.

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