Merivale was looking in bewilderment from Cunningham’s brown trousers to his own, the same color, the same tiny stripe of red and faint mottling of green.
“Good God man two future brothersinlaw cant wear the same suit. People’ll think it’s a uniform.... It’s ridiculous.”
“Well what are we going to do about it?” Merivale found himself saying in a grumbling tone.
“We have to toss up and see who gets it that’s all.... Will you lend me a quarter please?” Cunningham turned to his salesman. “All right.... One toss, you yell.”
“Heads,” said Merivale mechanically.
“The brown suit is yours.... Now I’ve got to choose another ... God I’m glad we met when we did. Look,” he shouted out through the curtains of the booth, “why dont you have dinner with me tonight at the Salmagundi Club?... I’m going to be dining with the only man in the world who’s crazier about hydroplanes than I am.... It’s
old man Perkins, you know him, he’s one of the vicepresidents of your bank.... And look when you see Maisie tell her I’m coming up to see her tomorrow. An extraordinary series of events has kept me from communicating with her ... a most unfortunate series of events that took all my time up to this moment.... We’ll talk about it later.”
Merivale cleared his throat. “Very well,” he said dryly.
“All right sir,” said the fitter giving Merivale a last tap on the buttocks. He went back into the booth to dress.
“All right old thing,” shouted Cunningham, “I’ve got to go pick out another suit ... I’ll expect you at seven. I’ll have a Jack Rose waiting for you.”