He was still reading his newspaper. “You haven't got to order it,” he said. “It will be ready at half-past six.”
“But I want it now,” I said. The time was a little after four.
He put down his paper and looked at me.
“Say, where do you come from?” he asked me.
“I have come from New York,” I answered him.
“You ain't been even there long,” he commented. “Englishman, aren't you?”
I admitted it.
He rose and laid a kindly hand on my shoulder.
“You run along and take a look round the town,” he said. “Interesting city. Anyhow, there's nothing else for you to do, till half-past six.”
I followed his advice. It wasn't really an interesting city. Or maybe I was not in the mood. At six o'clock I came back and dressed. I was feeling hungry. When I saw the “menu” I felt hungrier still. It would have made Lucullus sit up and smile. It covered two closely written pages, and contained, so far as I could judge, every delicacy in and out of season.