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The day book. (Chicago, Ill.) 1911-1917, July 24, 1913, Image 18

Image and text provided by University of Illinois at Urbana-Champaign Library, Urbana, IL

Persistent link: http://chroniclingamerica.loc.gov/lccn/sn83045487/1913-07-24/ed-1/seq-18/

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i A CLEAN-CUT MAN
? By James Hall.
Collins was in a very uncomfort
able frame of mind as he journeyed
downtown in the Subway. He had
been unemployed for nearly two
months and was fast approaching the
end of his resources when he answer
ed the promising advertisement in
the newspaper. An invitation to call
was the response, and Collins was al-
'"Won't You Accept My Humble ApoU
ogles?"
most certain that his application
would be "turned down."
The reason for this pessimistic
conclusion was that both the adver
tisement and the letter especially
stated that the advertiser wanted a
"clean-cut" man. Collins did not
know what a clean-cut man was, but
he had always associated the phrase
in his mind with the mental picture of
one of those tailoring advertisements
that appear so lavishly in the period
ical press, wherein a youth of aristo
cratic bearing and-classical build is
shown, cane in hand, dressed in
clothes that have evidently been
moulded to his figure. Collins was
decidedly not a clothes-horse type.
His hair was curly wiere it should
have been straight, his nose was a lit
tle retrousse, and his shoulders
sloped a little, as all muscular shoul
ders do, and were wholly innocent of
padding. Decidedly Collins was not
"clean-cut" in the fashion-plate
sense.
The car was crowded and Collins
was hanging to a strap. He fell to
watching the face of a girl who was
seated opposite. It was one of those
sweet, composed faces which are so
rarely seen in cities, and which, when
seen, impress themselves for a long
time upon the mind of the beholder.
She might be a stenographer, Col
lins thought, going to her work "in
'the downtown section. A girl of re
sponsibility too, no doubt, for there
was a quiet self-reliance in her man
ner which made her, quite uncon
sciously, a personality among the
nondescript humanity that crowded
the car. Her hair was light brown,
and her eyes, Collins perceived, when
she lifted them for a moment in his
direction, were his favorite color at
least, at that moment blue-gray.
On one side of her sat a swarthy,
nlean-visaged individual, a common
Subway type. On the other sat a
puffy-faced gentleman, reading his
newspaper. Collins took all this in,
but his mind was busy with the pros
pective interview, and the thought
drove away the arrows of the busy
little god. Allison was the head of
an important corporation, and the
whole of Collins' future hinged upon
Allison's definition of a "clean-cut"
man. Collins had totally forgotten,
the girl by the time the train stopped
at Brooklyn bridge;
Suddenly his attention was drawn
to her by hearing her exclaim in a
low, well-modulated voice, but ex
pressive of intense scorn:
"Will you kindly stop pressing my
arm, sir?"

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