“Oh, there are many people, even here in New York, who are not convinced that alcohol is a food.”
“You don’t tell me! Well, I’m livin’ and learnin’ every day. Judgin’ from stories and the yarns in the Boston newspapers, folks up our way have the idea that this town is a sort of annex to the bad place. All right, then we won’t trouble the Commodore. I notice you’re lookin’ over my quarters. What do you think of ’em?”
Pearson had, in spite of himself, been glancing about the room. Its luxury and the evident signs of taste and wealth surprised him greatly.
“Astonish you to find me livin’ in a place like this, hey?”
“Why, why, yes, it does, somewhat. I didn’t realize you were such an aristocrat, Captain Warren. If I had, I might have been a little more careful of my dress in making my first call.”
“Dress? Oh, you mean you’d have put on your Sunday clothes. Well, I’m glad you didn’t. You see, I haven’t got on my regimentals, and if you’d been on dress parade I might have felt bashful. Ho, ho! I don’t wonder you are surprised. This is a pretty swell neighborhood, ain’t it?”
“Yes, it is.”
“These—er—apartments, now. ’Bout as good as any in town, are they?”
“Pretty nearly. There are few better—much better.”
“I thought so. You wouldn’t call livin’ in ’em economizin’ to any consider’ble extent, would you?”