"You shall not be restricted to a chop," said Jack. "Order anything in season or out of it. I'm rich to-day. I sold a lot of things to another Yank. They're the book seller's friends! Pat's at Leamington at a book sale—and I flatter myself he'll be surprised when he comes back."
"There are two ways of being surprised," said Ben, remembering the incident of the imperfect copy.
"That's a very nasty one," said Mr. Harford. "I credited you with a shorter memory. But the insult shall be washed out in red wine, or even, if you say the word, in the yellow and effervescing juices of Epernay or Rheims. Money is no object. Consider me this evening as a Quaritch, or even a Rosenbach."
"As a matter of fact," said Ben, "I am in need of a particularly good dinner, for I have had a trying day. More than one thing has happened to tire me, and my last client—or would-be client—did more than tire, she humiliated me."
"'How come?'" asked Jack, who had added that detestable transatlantic locution to his vocabulary, chiefly with the meritorious if frivolous purpose of exasperating his partner.
"A very offensive woman called half an hour ago in a motor-car many yards long—you may have noticed her—to ask me to make arrangements to take her little Peter out for a walk three times every day while she is away in Paris," said Ben. "I was very angry and refused."
"Is Peter her little boy?" Jack asked.
"Little boy!" said Ben. "Nothing so unimportant. It's her Pekinese. When I refused she was furious. She almost accused me of being an impostor. She said that my business was to solve domestic problems and that no domestic problem was so acute as the exercising of dogs."
"I wish I'd known," said Mr. Harford. "I saw her go out. If I'd known, I should have offered her some suitable books: 'Self Help' by Smiles, or 'It's Never Too Late to Mend,' The—the——"
"Hush!" said Ben. "People who hang out signs can't be choosers."