Explore "The Street of the First Shell" by Robert W. Chambers on Textopian. Read with annotations and highlights.
West, standing in the doorway of a house in the rue Serpente, was speaking angrily. He said he didn't care whether Hartman liked it or not; he was telling him, not arguing with him.
"You call yourself an American! " he sneered; "Berlin and hell are full of that kind of American. You come loafing about Colette with your pockets stuffed with white bread and beef, and a bottle of wine at thirty francs and you can't really afford to give a dollar to the American Ambulance and Public Assistance, which Braith does, and he's half starved!"