Evidently ventilation was not one of the many popular specialities of Alexander the Great's establishment, for the atmosphere of the restaurant was heavy with the fumes of yesterday's food, the pictorial advertisements of which were being now expunged from the blackboard. There were gay duplicate patches on the two sides of this board; and Loveland thought, in faint disgust, that he could detect a separate smell for each dish represented. There was the ferocious-looking, horned animal which might be anything from a mere mad bull to a Minotaur, rising head and shoulders out of a blue cup. Yes, certainly the beast had left a rich, soupy perfume, which mingled curiously with that of the defiant fighting cock who spurred his way out of, or into, a pie-dish, and with the fruity fragrance of a roly-poly pudding which belched forth azure steam.
"Alexander the Great Fights Fair," announced one dangling card in the window. "Alexander the Great Wins Every Time," alleged another. "Alexander the Great Gives Great Grub." "Dine at Alexander the Great's, and you Dine like a Prince." "You Get From Alexander the Great for 25 c. More than You Get Anywhere Else for a Dollar." And so on, one glowing eulogy after another, all round the window and hanging like a fringe from the front of a large red desk at the back of the room near the window of a kind of butler's pantry.
The room itself, with its bare but tolerably clean floor, was crowded with small marble tables whose iron supports were painted light vermilion to match the desk, the chairs and benches; in fact, everything that could be red in the room was red, including doors, window-frames, and even the clock on a rough mantel-piece which cut one of Alexander's horses and a palm tree in halves.
Loveland had warmed himself thoroughly for the first time since leaving the Waldorf, and had lost his disgusted sense of the close atmosphere, when the red clock struck seven. At the same moment someone pushed aside the door curtain, and came into the restaurant from a passageway at the back. Val turned his head, and saw a very handsome, very untidy young Jewess.
Her heavy black hair was twisted up anyhow on the top of her head, and half a dozen patent arrangements for waving the front locks dangled low over the double arch of beautiful brows. A full white throat which would seem not quite long enough at forty, was gracious in its ivory curves at nineteen, even though it rose out of a purple flannel dressing-gown that left the wearer's figure to the beholder's imagination.
The girl came in yawning, but at sight of Loveland her languishing, almond-shaped eyes opened wide, and a lovely carnation stained the peachy sallowness of her rounded cheeks. She bit her full underlip, with little even teeth that were white as kernels of corn in contrast with the coral of her mouth.
"Oh!" she exclaimed, catching together her unbuttoned wrapper at the throat, and taking a step backward, towards the door. Suddenly she looked haughty, and a little defiant. "I didn't know anybody was here, except Bill. We don't open till seven thirty. People don't come in this early. But if you——"
"Thank you, I'm afraid I'm not a customer," said Loveland, pulling off his cap, and flushing a little with embarrassment for himself and for the girl.
"This gent's me friend. His name's Gordon—P. Gordon," explained Bill.
The girl laughed, self-consciously, pleased, yet half suspicious of the handsome young man who had paid her the compliment of taking off his hat. She was not used to men who did that, even for pretty girls like her; but then she was not used to such men as Loveland. She recognised the difference between him and the others, in an instant, and decided that he was not "guying"; therefore that she need not hold herself stiffly on guard. Not only was he the handsomest young man she had ever seen, but he was a "swell," and swells did not patronise Alexander the Great's. She wondered what he wanted, and why he should pose as a friend of Bill's. Evidently he had been up all night, or he would not be in evening dress at seven o'clock in the morning, but he had not the air of having enjoyed himself. Perhaps Bill had helped him out of some scrape. He looked gloomy and savage, like some gallant and beautiful animal driven to bay, an effect which interested the girl very much and made her like him better.