He could not understand how in this crisis of his fortunes, when there was so much to discourage him, he should have such an appetite. Savory odors from the neighboring kitchen found their way into the room when the waiter opened the door and entered to set the table.
Jed was glad to overlook the cheap and dark-hued crockery, the rusty knives and forks and the chipped glasses, as the odor of the ham and eggs was wafted to his nostrils. Finally the beer and tea were brought in, and his companion signaled to him to fall to.
"Where did you dine?" he asked abruptly.
"At the Astor House."
The sallow-faced man paused with his glass, which he had just filled, half-way to his lips.
"Was that before you were robbed of your money?" he asked.
"No, sir, but I met a gentleman whom I knew at the seaside, and he invited me to dine with him."
"Oh, that explains it. This is a very different place from the Astor House."
"I should think so," said Jed smiling.