Oh, it is excellent
To have a giant's strength; but it is tyrannous
To use it like a giant.
Tyrant, he called himself. Damned high-hander! And Ben Vickers is a slave-driver. And Coons a crackpot. And we are all working hard at it.
As he reached the hotel, someone called his name from across the street. It was Whisky Willie Silverknife, who fell into a dog-trot and arrived waving a folded paper.
"M-m-message for you. From M-Miss Persia."
Tesno had the note unfolded by the time Willie got the words out.
Dear Mr. Tesno:
The council meeting is at seven. Will you join me for dinner afterward?
Persia Parker
"S-she s-said to t-tell me yes or n-no," Willie said.
"How come you're running her errands?"
"I hit her for a j-job, like you s-said." Willie blushed under his freckles. "She d-didn't have one, not right away, b-but she s-said maybe she'd think of s-something. She s-said if I was b-broke, which I am, to come around to the k-kitchen for m-meals. After l-lunch she g-gave me that n-note."
Willie slid the flask from his hip pocket and took a short drink. Tesno re-read the note, searching for the sound of Persia's voice in every word.