“Then here, I’ll give you the dollar, now we will go into a private wine room and have a good hour’s chat.”
“What! and let all these sure things around here go? I guess not! Don’t you see that old guy over there making eyes at me now? He’s a regular here and always ready money, too.”
“Have another drink,” said the man, as he took a cigarette from the package which the girl held in her hand.
“All right, I’ll have one more, then bid you good night. I’ll see you again,” she said reassuringly.
The man was wise. When the boy brought the drinks, he produced a roll of tens and twenties, which would cause the eyes of most people to dilate with greed.
Tossing a bill on the table, he carelessly placed the roll in his waistcoat pocket, and when the waiter returned with the change, he generously insisted on his taking a dollar for the drinks.
“Now it is my time to buy,” said the girl, before the boy had left the table.
“Bring me a whisky sour, and what is yours,” she said merrily as she leaned over and placed one hand on the man’s knee.
“I will take a small bottle of beer,” said the man, slowly.
“Oh, come now, old brown eyes, take something better; some kind of a mixed drink.”