.. decorating his ankles with lavender and black
Our Lady of the Sparrows
"Oh, tell me, little ball, is it ta-ta or good-by?"
Wild-eyed and hilarious they descended on the clubhouse with the
miraculous news
A committee carefully examined the books of the club
"You gave him--the tickets! The Lottery Tickets!"
MURDER IN ANY DEGREE
I
One Sunday in March they had been marooned at the club, Steingall the
painter and Quinny the illustrator, and, having lunched late, had bored
themselves separately to their limits over the periodicals until,
preferring to bore each other, they had gravitated together in easy
arm-chairs before the big Renaissance fireplace.
Steingall, sunk in his collar, from behind the black-rimmed spectacles,
which, with their trailing ribbon of black, gave a touch of Continental
elegance to his cropped beard and colonel's mustaches, watched without
enthusiasm the three mammoth logs, where occasional tiny flames gave
forth an illusion of heat.
Quinny, as gaunt as a militant friar of the Middle Ages, aware of
Steingall's protective reverie, spoke in desultory periods, addressing
himself questions and supplying the answers, reserving his epigrams for
a larger audience.
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