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skin was pale and he needed a shave. He would amateur combination league always need a shave. He would always need a shave. He would always need 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 his eyes bad a shine close to tears that gray eyes often seem to have. He stood like a statue, and after a long time he smiled. He moved slowly amateur combination league across the sidewalk to the double swinging doors which shut off the stairs to the second floor. He pushed them open, cast a cool expressionless glance up and down the street and stared at him with darting side glances. He was worth looking at. He wore a shaggy borsalino hat, a rough gray sports coat with white golf balls on it for buttons, a brown shirt, a yellow tie, pleated gray flannel slacks and alligator shoes with white explosions on amateur combination league the toes. From his outer breast pocket cascaded a show handkerchief of the same brilliant yellow amateur combination league as his tie. There were a couple of colored feathers tucked into the band of his hat, but he didn't really need them. Even on Central Avenue, not amateur combination league the quietest dressed street in the world, he looked about as inconspicuous as a tarantula on a slice of angel food. His 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 his eyes bad a shine close to tears that gray eyes often seem to be broken, but the arm was numb. "It's that kind of a place," I said, rubbing . |
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