“What’s the matter with your chin, Morrie?” Hewett asked curiously, as he settled himself in his chair.
The dark-haired fellow raised his hand carelessly to the court-plaster.
“Oh, that, you mean?” he asked nonchalantly. “I cut myself shaving.”
The waiter appeared.
“What’ll you have, fellows?” Morrison went on. “I’m going to take a rye high ball.”
“Beer for me.”
The other two spoke together.
Burgess took a box of cigarettes from his pocket and passed them around. They all lit up, and presently the drinks were brought and set down before them.
“Have you heard the latest?” Burgess inquired, exhaling a cloud of smoke.
“What latest?” asked Morrison.