"He laughs best who laughs last."
He arrived at the little stationery shop without having seen where he had been going, his eyes blinded with rage, his mind filled with bitter imprecations. Of his night's infatuation not a vestige remained except the weakness of disillusionment and the suffering of a proud nature.
"Well, Professor, how was your girl?"
He looked up to see the dark-complexioned lady still methodically chewing away.
"She's like all the rest," he thought darkly, "fooling some man, I bet."
Then his eyes fell on a group of photographs in the shape of postal cards; a wonderful assortment of fleshlings, of young ladies who dazzle and display abundant charms before the footlights. He remembered that an explanation was due to Snorky, and that the explanation would have to be very convincing. One photograph fascinated him; it was so like the way Tina would look, if there were a Tina!
The young lady in graceful tights, legs crossed in a figure four, elbow resting on a marble column, her chin supported by the index finger, was smiling out at him with a full dental smile.
"Say, do a fellow a favor?" he said.
"Sure for a nice boy like you I will," she said, encouragingly.