And this
dreary preamble is only to introduce to you the unimportant figures of
William and Jack.
They came out of the West together, where they had been friends. They
came to dig their fortunes out of the big city.
Father Knickerbocker met them at the ferry, giving one a right-hander on
the nose and the other an upper-cut with his left, just to let them know
that the fight was on.
William was for business; Jack was for Art. Both were young and
ambitious; so they countered and clinched. I think they were from
Nebraska or possibly Missouri or Minnesota. Anyhow, they were out for
success and scraps and scads, and they tackled the city like two
Lochinvars with brass knucks and a pull at the City Hall.
Four years afterward William and Jack met at luncheon. The business man
blew in like a March wind, hurled his silk hat at a waiter, dropped into
the chair that was pushed under him, seized the bill of fare, and had
ordered as far as cheese before the artist had time to do more than nod.
After the nod a humorous smile came into his eyes.
"Billy," he said, "you're done for. The city has gobbled you up. It has
taken you and cut you to its pattern and stamped you with its brand.
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