“Hello,” she said to me.
I got up and said, “Hello. Marilyn, this is a friend of mine, Mr. Hale.”
“Oh, how are you, Mr. Hale?” She gave him her hand.
Hale was standing up at his full height beaming down at her. The expression on his face was like that of a kid who is looking through a plate-glass store window at Santa Claus two days before Christmas.
“Won’t you sit down?” I asked.
“Thanks.”
We had no more than seated her when the waiter came up for an order.
“Plain water and whisky,” she said.
“Gin and Coke,” I ordered.
Hale pursed his lips thoughtfully. “Well, let me see. Do you have any real good cognac?”