That it was not his first experience could be seen from the way he leaned far over the counter, dropped the filmy wad, and then straightened back--the gesture meaning that if any other customer should come in while his negotiations were in progress, he was not to be connected in any way with the article.
"Something rather good," he said, pointing to the black roll.
The proprietress, a square-built woman, solid as a sack of salt, her waist-line marked by a string tightened just above a black alpaca apron, her dried-apple face surmounted by a dingy lace cap topped with a soiled red ribbon, eyed him cautiously, and remarked, after loosening out the mantilla: "Dem teater gurls only vant such tings, and dey can pay nuddin'.

No, I vouldn't even gif fife tollars.

Petter dake it somevares else." Dalton hesitated, turning the matter over in his mind.

The transfer would bring him the desired pawn-ticket, but the five dollars was not sufficient to help him tide over the most pressing of his difficulties.
He had borrowed double that sum two nights before, from the barkeeper of a pool-room where he occasionally played, and he dared not repeat his visit until he could carry him the money.
The male Blobbs, the taller and more rotund of the two shopkeepers--especially about the middle--now strolled in, leaned over the counter, and picking up the lace, held it to the overhead light.
Looked at from behind, Blobbs was all shirt-sleeves and waist-coat, the back of his flat head resting like a lid on his shoulders.

Looked at from the front, Blobbs developed into a person with shoe-brush whiskers bristling against two yellow cheeks, the features being the five dots a child always insists upon when drawing a face.