Here the street door opened, and a young woman entered and asked for two papers of chewing-gum.
She got them, but not until the proprietor had shot together the curtains screening off the candy store from the restaurant. The dignity and exclusiveness of the establishment required this.
When she was gone I poured out the rest of the paraffine, and called out through the closed curtains for a cigar.
"One of them bo-kets?" came the proprietor's voice in response.
"Yes, one of them."
He brought it himself, in his hand, just as it was, holding the mouth end between the thumb and forefinger.
"And now how much?"
He made a rapid accounting, overlooking the table, his eyes lighting on the several fragments: "Beer, ten cents; steak, ten; peaches, five; celery, three; eggs on toast, ten; one bo-ket, four." Then he paused a moment, as if he wanted to be entirely fair and square, and said, "Forty-two cents."
"FORTY-TWO CENTS"