But in its place
was something - something little, wrapped in tissue paper. Her complete
astonishment apparently warned the vendor of drugs of his mistake. He
scuttled across the street; in a flash had vanished in a back alley.
One could go on forever. I cannot forbear another. A woman was passing
through the theatrical district of San Francisco one night, just before
the theatres let out. The street was fairly deserted. Suddenly she was
accosted by a strange gentleman of suave address. Obviously he had
dallied with the demon and was spectacularly the worse for it. He was
carrying an enormous, a very beautiful - and a very expensive - bouquet.
In a short speech of an impassioned eloquence and quite as flowery as
his tribute, he presented her with the bouquet. She tried to avoid
accepting it. But this was not, without undue publicity, to be done.
Finally to put an end to the scene, she bore off her booty. She has
often wondered what actress was deprived of her over-the-foot-lights
trophy by the sudden freak of an exhilarated messenger.
I know that the Native Son works and works hard. The proof of that is
California itself. San Francisco twice rebuilt, the progressive city of
Los Angeles, all the merry enterprising smaller California cities and
towns.
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