"You needn't drink it. But you'll get nothing else. Come along or I'll pick you up and carry you to the nearest garage."
She trotted obediently beside him, a fragile dainty figure; carried limply, however, and little more distinguished than flappers of inferior origin. He led her to a rather luxurious delicatessen not far from his hotel, kept by enterprising Italians who never closed their doors. They seated themselves uncomfortably at the high counter, and the sleepy attendant served them with sandwiches, then retired to the back of the shop. He was settling himself to alert repose when Miss Oglethorpe suddenly changed her mind and ordered a chocolate ice cream soda. Then she ordered another, and she ate six sandwiches, a slice of cake and two bananas.
"Great heaven!" exclaimed Clavering. "You must have the stomach of an ostrich."
"Can eat nails and drink fire water."
"Well, you won't two years hence, and you'll look it, too."
"Oh, no I won't. I'll marry when I'm nineteen and a half and settle down."
"I should say you were heading the other way. Where have you been tonight?"
"Donny Farren gave a party in his rooms and passed out just as he was about to take me home. I loosened his collar and put a pillow under his head, but I couldn't lift him, even to the sofa. Too fat."
