"Bass!" Merrihew went through the pleasant foolery of casting a line, of drawing the bait, of lifting the hook, and of reeling in. "Four pounds, Jack. He fit hard, as old Joe used to say. Remember?"
And so naturally they fell to recounting the splendid catches of the gamiest fish in water. When the interest in this waned, Hillard looked at his watch.
"Only nine," he said. "Let's go over to Gambrinus' and hear the music."
"And drink a boot of beer. Better than moping here."
The Hotel Italie was but a few blocks from the Piazza Vittorio Emanuele. They found the Halle crowded, noisy and interesting. The music was good, as it always is in Italy, and the beer had the true German flavor, Münchener. Handsome uniforms brightened the scene; and there was flirting and laughter, in which Merrihew found opportunity to join.
"If Kitty should see you!"
"Well, what if she did? When I'm married to her it will be mutually understood that so long as I do not speak to them I may look at pretty women."
"You seem very sure of marrying her."
"It's only a matter of time. The man who hangs on wins finally." Merrihew had lost none of his confidence.
"I see; they marry you to get rid of you," said Hillard. "Yes, the man who hangs on finally wins, in love or war or fortune. But I haven't anything to hang on to."