“No indeed,” replied Uncle George, “it is but just beginning.”
“Hurray! Hurray!” shouted Rollo, tossing his cap in the air.
The place where Rollo and Uncle George and Mr. Ross went for supper was high up on the top of a tall building. At the entrance a gentleman held a red velvet rope across the door, but he smiled pleasantly when he saw Uncle George and let them pass to the annoyance of a number of people who were waiting. This of course pleased Rollo not a little.
“What is the name of this place?” asked Rollo.
“It is called the Place Blanche,” explained Uncle George. “French is the language spoken by the people who name New York restaurants. If a restaurant should have a name which a taxi-driver could pronounce correctly, it would not last a week!”
“It is very crowded,” said Rollo, “and the space for dancing seems quite small.”
“That too is carefully arranged for,” said his uncle. “People like to eat in stuffy, uncomfortable places. As for dancing, it is much better to dance when one is pressed hard against several other couples, for if you do not happen to care particularly for your partner you can close your eyes and imagine you are dancing with a number of other ladies at the same time.”
“It was but the work of a moment to undress and leap into bed”