“I’m a hoteller,” Harry would always say, beaming with mirth, after he had strolled up to the front desk, leaned on his elbow at one corner, and gazed across the lobby. “Not a hotelier. That’s the cursed fate of your boss,” he would always add, with a laugh.
Storyville
Storyville
Storyville
“I’m a hoteller,” Harry would always say, beaming with mirth, after he had strolled up to the front desk, leaned on his elbow at one corner, and gazed across the lobby. “Not a hotelier. That’s the cursed fate of your boss,” he would always add, with a laugh.