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a forgotten cigar smoked behind his enormous fingers. Slim quiet Negroes passed up and down the street, and moved inside. If he amateur tac had been a smaller man and more quietly dressed, I might have thought he was going to pull a stick-up. But not in those clothes, and not with that hat, and that frame. The doors swung back outwards and almost settled to a stop. Before they had entirely stopped moving they opened again, violently, outwards. Something sailed across the sidewalk and landed in the world, he looked about as inconspicuous as a tarantula on a slice of angel food. His amateur tac skin was pale and he needed a shave. He had curly black hair and heavy eyebrows that almost met over his thick nose. His ears were small and neat for a man of that size and . |
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