I am not fit to be seen, thought Cassy, looking about at two and three hundred dollar frocks and at blouses that were almost as cheap.
Paliser, turning to the waiter, translated passages from the menu. "Surprised tomatoes, cocottish eggs, suprême on a sofa, ice Aurora Borealis. And a baked potato." He turned to Cassy. "Barring the ice, a baked potato is the only thing in which they can't stick grease."
"Et comme vin, monsieur?" enquired the waiter who ought to have been at the front.
"Aqua pura. But probably you have not got it. Celestial Vichy, then." He looked again at Cassy. "What else might displease your ladyship?"
"Do stop talking like a low comedian," Cassy vexatiously retorted. "If you had not used force I would not be here. I could not make a row at the door."
"No, one scene on Fifth Avenue is enough for one day."
"I should say so and it was you who made it. I was going quietly about my business when I was derricked into your car."
"Not at all. You threw yourself at my head. If it had not been for me, the policeman would have marched you off to prison."
Cassy laughed. "The dear man! He knew I would be worse off with you."
"Yes. He was certainly perspicacious. Where did you say you were going?"