"I guess you are, too, hey?" he
protested admiringly. "Vera was telling me you used to be a
great ball tosser."
In the face of the District Attorney there came a sudden
interest. His eyes lightened.
"How did she -- "
"She used to watch you in Geneva," said Mannie, "playing with
the college lads. I -- I," he added consciously, "was a ball
player myself once. Used to pitch for the Interstate League." He
stopped abruptly.
"Interstate?" said Winthrop encouragingly. "You must have been
good."
The enthusiasm had departed from the face of the boy. "Yes, he
said, "but -- " he smiled shamefacedly, "but I got taking coke,
and they -- " He finished with a dramatic gesture of the hand as
of a man tossing away a cigarette.
"Cocaine?" said the District Attorney.
The boy nodded and, for an instant, the two men eyed each other,
the boy smiling ruefully. The District Attorney shook his head.
"My young friend," he said, "you can never beat that game!"
Mannie stared at him, his eyes filled with surprise.
"Don't you suppose," he said simply, "that I know that better
than you do?" With a boy's pride in his own incorrigibility he
went on boastingly: "Oh, yes," he said, "I used to be awful bad!
Cocaine and all kinds of dope, and cigarettes, and whiskey. I
was nearly all in -- with morphine, it was then -- till she took
hold of me, and stopped me."
"She?" said Winthrop.
"Vera," said Mannie. "She made me stop.
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