“Come away, Dannie,” he said cheerfully, “let’s do something wild. I feel up to most anything with this miserable fog down on me. If it had any nerve it would take some form or shape, so a man could choke it back.”
Ruggles blew his nose violently.
“There’s nothing to do,” said Dan in a bored tone.
“Why don’t you see who your telegram is from?” Ruggles asked him. It proved to be a suggestion from Gordon Galorey that Dan should meet him at five o’clock at the club.
“What will you do, Rug?”
“Sleep,” said the Westerner serenely; “I’m nearly as happy in London as I am in Philadelphia. It’s four o’clock now and I can’t sleep more than four hours anyway. Let’s have a real wild time, Dannie.”
Dan looked at him doubtfully, but Ruggles’ eyes were keen.
“What kind of a time do you mean?”
“Let’s ask the Gaiety girl for dinner—for supper after the theater.”
“Letty Lane? She wouldn’t go.”