Somebody at
the last minute let go of his reservation or we couldn't have got
a table."
"Twenty bucks, and we got to feel honored yet that they let us sit at a
table to buy a dinner! But say, Herm, it's a great sight, ain't it?"
"There's only one little old New York! Got to hand it to this
town--they're a gang of cut-throats, but they do things up brown. A
little of it goes a long ways, but I always say a trip to New York isn't
complete without a night at the Moncrieff Roof. You sit here, Sam,
facing the stage."
"No, you! An old bachelor has got the right to sit closer to a girl-show
than a married man."
They drew up before a small table edging a shining area of reserved
floor space and only once removed from the burnt-orange curtains.
"A-ha!" exuded Mr. Samuel Kahn, his rather strongly aquiline face lifted
in profile.
"A-ha!" exuded Mr. Loeb, smiling out of eyes ten years younger.
"What'll you have, Sam?"
"Say, what's the difference? I'll take a cheese sandwich and a glass of
beer."
"Now cut that! Maybe I squealed about the twenty bucks, but that don't
make me out a short skate. This isn't Cherokee Garden at home, man. I'm
going to blow my brother-in-law to New-Year's Eve in my own way, or know
the reason why not.
Pages:
310
311
312
313
314
315
316
317
318
319
320
321
322
323
324
325
326
327
328
329
330
331
332
333
334