And there is the photograph of the fat man. He is very large--both high
and wide. He has filled the lens and now compels the eye. His broad face
beams a friendly interest. His moustache is a flourishing, uncurbed,
riotous growth above his billowy chin.
The checked coat, held recklessly aside by a hand on each hip, reveals
an incredible expanse of waistcoat, the pattern of which raves
horribly. From pocket to pocket of this gaudy shield curves a watch
chain of massive links--nearly a yard of it, one guesses.
Often I have glanced at this noisy thing tacked to the wall, entranced
by the simple width of the man. Now on a late afternoon I loitered
before it while my hostess changed from riding breeches to the gown of
lavender and lace in which she elects to drink tea after a day's hard
work along the valleys of the Arrowhead. And for the first time I
observed a line of writing beneath the portrait, the writing of my
hostess, a rough, downright, plain fashion of script: "Reading from left
to right--Mr. Ben Sutton, Popular Society Favourite of Nome, Alaska."
"Reading from left to right!" Here was the intent facetious.
Pages:
1
2
3
4
5
6
7
8
9
10
11
12
13
14
15
16
17
18
19
20
21
22
23
24
25