"Draught beer or bottled?" asked the waiter.
"Bring us draught beer," said Etta. "I haven't tasted beer since our restaurant burned."
"I never tasted it," said Susan. "But I'll try it tonight."
Etta cut two thick slices from the steak, put them on Susan's plate with some of the beautifully browned fried potatoes. "Gracious, they have good things to eat here!" she exclaimed. Then she cut two thick slices for herself, and filled her mouth. Her eyes glistened, the color came into her pale cheeks. "Isn't it grand!" she cried, when there was room for words to pass out.
"Grand," agreed Susan, a marvelous change of expression in her face also.
The beer came. Etta drank a quarter of the tall glass at once. Susan tasted, rather liked the fresh bitter-sweet odor and flavor. "Is it—very intoxicating?" she inquired.
"If you drink enough," said Etta. "But not one glass."
Susan took quite a drink. "I feel a lot less tired already," declared she.
"Me too," said Etta. "My, what a meal! I never had anything like this in my life. When I think what we've been through! Lorna, will it last?"
"We mustn't think about that," said Susan.