"I used to think everybody was a sissy who wasn't a tough
guy. I was a tough guy all right, an' I was mighty proud of it.
I ain't any more an' haven't been for a long time; but before I
took a tumble to myself I'd have hated you, Bridge. I'd a-hated
your fine talk, an' your poetry, an' the thing about you
that makes you hate to touch a guy for a hand-out.
"I'd a-hated myself if I'd thought that I could ever talk
mushy like I am now. Gee, Bridge, but I was the limit! A
girl--a nice girl--called me a mucker once, an' a coward. I
was both; but I had the reputation of bein' the toughest guy
on the West Side, an' I thought I was a man. I nearly poked
her face for her--think of it, Bridge! I nearly did; but something
stopped me--something held my hand from it, an' lately
I've liked to think that maybe what stopped me was something
in me that had always been there--something decent
that was really a part of me. I hate to think that I was such a
beast at heart as I acted like all my life up to that minute. I
began to change then. It was mighty slow, an' I'm still a
roughneck; but I'm gettin' on. She helped me most, of course,
an' now you're helpin' me a lot, too--you an' your poetry
stuff. If some dick don't get me I may get to be a human
bein' before I die.
Pages:
297
298
299
300
301
302
303
304
305
306
307
308
309
310
311
312
313
314
315
316
317
318
319
320
321