“Table for four,” he said. Now that he was doing the thing he was minded to do it magnificently. “Sit down, sergeant. Tommy, run and telephone, as I told you, to the Department of Justice. Got to nail those fellows quick.”
As one newly awakened from sleep Sergeant sat down beside Peggy. He presented, up to the neck, the appearance of a Mr. Booth suddenly elongated as to legs and arms. From the neck up he was a young man who had found one hundred and seventy-five dollars and the only girl in the world.
The general ordered breakfast for four. Then he glanced up from the menu.
“Suit you all right, Gray?”
“Splendidly, sir—unless——” He hesitated.
“Go ahead,” said the general. “You’ve earned the right to choose what you like.”
“I was going to suggest, sir, that I ordinarily have a bran muffin——”
The general put down the menu and stared at him. Then he chuckled.
“Might have known it would be you!” he observed. “But c’est la guerre, Gray. C’est la guerre! We’ll have them.”