[“He thinks he’s a pretty swell little dresser, Foley does”]
“They’re not? Help!” Jack regarded his own brown stockings in dismay. “I’ve got to go home and change, Joe. Honest, this thing of keeping up with the styles is killing, isn’t it?”
“It don’t trouble you much,” said Mr. Chester Young indulgently. “If it did you’d call in that collar you’re wearing.”
“What’s the matter with my collar?”
“Nothing, only they don’t wear ’em like that now.” Young put a hand to his throat and pulled his terra-cotta silk scarf into place. “More like this.”
“Oh, I see,” said Jack. “Sort of low and rakish, eh? All right. Live and learn. Say, Joe, that thing you’re wearing is worse than mine. I should think you’d be ashamed of yourself!”
“I’d be ashamed to be seen in one like his,” answered Joe. “Get Meyers and Fink and tell them to send us a hundred Adams Building conchas and two boxes of Vistas panatellas, will you? Don’t forget to give these returns to the news company, Young, when they come today. I’ve been falling over them for two or three days.”
“We’re out of City Hall post-cards,” said Young. “And we’re getting short on some of the others.”
“They’re on order, thanks. That reminds me, Jack. Those chocolates aren’t as good as they sent us first. Guess we’d better switch back to the Cleveland folks. Their packages aren’t quite as dressy, but the chocolates are a lot better.”