the social scale--being the agent of a patent lawn sprinkler with an
office in Faber Street.

"Stick to him and you'll wear diamonds--that's what he tries to put
across," was Lise's comment on Mr. Frear's method, and thus Janet gained
the impression that her sister's feelings were not deeply involved. "If I
thought he'd make good with the sprinkler I might talk business. But say,
he's one of those ginks that's always tryin' to beat the bank. He's never
done a day's work in his life. Last year he was passing around Foley's
magazine, and before that he was with the race track that went out of
business because the ministers got nutty over it. Well, he may win out,"
she added reflectively, "those guys sometimes do put the game on the
blink. He sure is a good spender when the orders come in, with a line of
talk to make you holler for mercy."

Mr. Frear's "line of talk" came wholly, astonishingly, from one side of
his mouth--the left side. As a muscular feat it was a triumph. A deaf
person on his right side would not have known he was speaking. The effect
was secretive, extraordinarily confidential; enabling him to sell
sprinklers, it ought to have helped him to make love, so distinctly
personal was it, implying as it did that the individual addressed was
alone of all the world worthy of consideration. Among his friends it was
regarded as an accomplishment, but Lise was critical, especially since he
did not look into one's eyes, but gazed off into space, as though he
weren't talking at all.

She had once inquired if the right side of his face was paralyzed.

She permitted him to take her, however, to Gruber's Cafe, to the movies,
and one or two select dance halls, and to Slattery's Riverside Park,