“Better eat.”
“No. When I get like this I don’t care whether I eat or not.”
We had a drink. Harvey added my saucer to his own pile.
“Do you know Mencken, Harvey?”
“Yes. Why?”
“What’s he like?”
“He’s all right. He says some pretty funny things. Last time I had dinner with him we talked about Hoffenheimer. ‘The trouble is,’ he said, ‘he’s a garter snapper.’ That’s not bad.”
“That’s not bad.”
“He’s through now,” Harvey went on. “He’s written about all the things he knows, and now he’s on all the things he doesn’t know.”
“I guess he’s all right,” I said. “I just can’t read him.”