A restaurant opened for business on West Market Street today.
Firecrackers popped noisily in front of the entrance for a long time, accompanied by a steady stream of congratulations from the surrounding neighbors.
The proprietor was a stout, pot-bellied middle-aged man of impressive and towering stature who might otherwise have seemed unapproachable, but his face was invariably wreathed in a spring-like smile, the corners of his eyes crinkling as if he were ready to joke with anyone at any moment. This affable warmth greatly diminished the commanding presence imposed by his bulky build.
Chapter 97