Jim's on the firm moral stand
about a lot of things. He's a strong man, body and soul and mind, but I
have a whole brood of pet weaknesses running about that I hate to
destroy. The other day when I was going over to Nice to try my luck with
the _Flying Fish_ for the first time, I'm ashamed to say I chucked that
little red-eyed, grinning imp five francs for luck--my luck, not his?"
"It's a wonder you didn't get out and rub his hump, as a lot of gamblers
do. They say he's quite a rich man, owing to that sort of silly
superstition, but I can't resist him, either. And I feel it quite a
feather in my cap of fascination that I've made the other one--the
gloomy beggar--smile, though I've never given him a sou. He has quite a
sense of humour, when you get to know him--and when he's realized that
he can't fool you. I often walk to the bridge and back, just for a chat
with the two beggars, instead of everlastingly promenading up and down
the Terrace, bowing to every one I know, when I want exercise. I thought
I was the only person original enough or brave enough or depraved enough
to visit the beggars socially; but the other morning I was on my way to
pay them a call, when I saw that somebody else was ahead of me. It was
quite a picture. You remember the blazing hot day we had last week?"
"Wednesday. The best we had at Nice. Not a breath of wind. The day
Rongier tried the Della Robbia parachute the second time and made his
sensational descent."
"Well, then it was Wednesday.
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