“What do you want?” she went on indifferently.
“Gimme time to breathe!” he protested, and tried to stare into her face and to take her hand.
“Stop!” she warned him and drew back.
“Why, what the deuce—”
“Customers are waitin’—” she cut him short.
He gave the bill of fare a contemptuous glance. “Bring me a soft boiled egg, toast an’ a glass o’ milk.”
She looked at him with sudden irritation, but smiled, turned her back and left the room with aggravating slowness.
Jimmy appeared angry, but one of the patrons disturbed his mood with an admiring: “On a diet, Jimmy?”
“Yes.”
“What night does it come off?”