“All right. There’s no other to contradict.”
Breen, although silenced, was busy reflecting; Carstairs’ ire was appeased. Nielsen concluded: “Let’s take up Breen’s proposition, John, each in his own way, whatever that may be, and then we’ll compare notes some day and settle the business. After all, Erna’s only a waitress; we needn’t spend more than an ordinary amount of excitement over her.”
“But she isn’t a waitress. I tell you, she’s a woman.”
“All right, woman let her be,” Nielsen conceded gracefully. “Now, we don’t want to sit here throwing words and phrases around all evening. We’ve been at it too long as it is. Why not put the matter to a vote and then drop it?”
“Yes.”
“Breen, of course, votes that we put her to the test. Will you vote that way too?”
Carstairs gave in with an effort.
“Fine!” Nielsen applauded. “I’ll vote ‘yes’ too.”
“Motion proposed and carried that one Erna Vitek, employed as waitress at the Café Landsmann—”
“That’ll do, Breen. We’ve had enough of your eloquence for one evening. You’ve given me a headache. Besides, I’m sick of this subject. Let’s start something else.”