He did not consider it necessary to admit that it was only the second time he had visited the café.
“I like to try the different places,” he added, with a view to future evasion.
“The girls’ dresses are pretty,” observed May, looking after the neat Puritan figure of the waitress who had served them. “They suggest the chorus in a revue.”
“I dare say Mr Matheson considers that one of the attractions of the place,” Rosie threw in with a touch of malice.
Matheson, who had not as a matter of fact taken particular note of the waitresses, glanced after a tall blonde girl who passed their table carrying a trayful of American drinks, and laughed.
“I think they look jolly fine,” he said.
May looked about her, nibbling an ice wafer.
“I wouldn’t mind being a waitress in a café. They don’t have half a bad time,” she averred.
“May!” Her sister appeared horrified. “The things men say to them... And imagine taking tips!”
“I’d like the tips all right,” May declared, and caught Matheson’s eye and smiled. “And it’s just fascinating squirting drinks out of those syphons. It makes one cool to watch. Besides, I’d like going about in fancy dress all day, and wearing a dinky little cap. How do you think I’d lode in one of those Puritan caps, Mr Matheson?”