"No, you! An old bachelor has got the right to sit closer to a girl-show than a married man."
They drew up before a small table edging a shining area of reserved floor space and only once removed from the burnt-orange curtains.
"A-ha!" exuded Mr. Samuel Kahn, his rather strongly aquiline face lifted in profile.
"A-ha!" exuded Mr. Loeb, smiling out of eyes ten years younger.
"What'll you have, Sam?"
"Say, what's the difference? I'll take a cheese sandwich and a glass of beer."
"Now cut that! Maybe I squealed about the twenty bucks, but that don't make me out a short skate. This isn't Cherokee Garden at home, man. I'm going to blow my brother-in-law to New-Year's Eve in my own way, or know the reason why not. Here, waiter, a pint of extra dry and a layout of sandwiches."
"If you can stand it, I guess I can!"
"It's not on the firm, either, Sam; it's on me!"
"For the price of to-night ma and Etta would hang themselves, ain't it?"