Loeb went
him one better. The man in the skull-cap declared that while he
could not bring himself to tell a smutty story himself, he was "as
good as any man in appreciating one." He then offered a box of
cigars for the most daring anecdote, and there ensued an orgy of
obscenity that kept us shouting (I could not help thinking of
similar talks at the cloak-shops). Loeb suggested that the
smoking-room be dubbed "smutty room" and was applauded by
the little Chicagoan. The prize was awarded, by a vote, to a man
who had told his story in the gravest tone of voice and without a
hint of a smile
Frivolity gave way to a discussion of general business conditions.
A lanky man with a gray beard, neatly trimmed, and with the most
refined manners in our group, said something about competition
in the abstract. I made a remark which seemed to attract attention
and then I hastened to refer to the struggle for life and the survival
of the fittest. Loeb dared not burlesque me. I was in high feather
Dinner was announced. To keep my traveling expenses down I was
usually very frugal on the road.
Pages:
498
499
500
501
502
503
504
505
506
507
508
509
510
511
512
513
514
515
516
517
518
519
520
521
522